


Un écho de la phrase entendue

by orphan_account



Series: En animant jusqu'a la fin [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, DJ Otabek Altin, I promise this is jjbek at its core, Jjbek, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Questionable Consent, Substance Abuse, past otamila
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2018-12-18 16:38:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 98,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11878533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: a story about distance, strength and what love really is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is not a standalone so if you haven't read Dans une expression allant grandissant . . . you should, because this will make more sense.  
> Also this whole chapter is fabricated from real tears of my soul

. . . He runs into Jean's arms like this is an escape, because this might (could [should]) be the last he'll have.

(No; it's just  _might._ He stops it there.)

JJ drives him, chatting the whole time. The city's pretty even in winter, despite the brown gradient outward from the street, onto the snowbanks that have been plowed to allow vehicles passage. JJ explains that his parents moved to this smaller center outside of Montreal because it was a bit more affordable.

The family car is a 2008 Camry. They go through a shopping area with a Safeway and an Original Joe's and then into residential, pass some cookie-cutter houses, a few streets of duplexes, go to narrower roads that still have the sharp-edged curbs: smaller houses on larger lots. Trees, barren now, rise on either side of the avenue. JJ still talks away. Otabek offers small encouragers to keep him going. He looks out his window, which is slightly foggy on the inside from the cold outside.

December 30. School will start on the 5th.

A lot's happened since Otabek's gone. JJ's saying stuff about people he saw again and family Otabek has never met, irrelevant, he's talking a bit about the city and what there is to do.

More's happened on Otabek's side of things.

It's almost too much. It all just snuck in on him. One note, one measure, one phrase, led to the next. Questions he  _needs_ to answer and didn't even think of. Oh, and seeing  _her_ again couldn't have been helpful - not that he plans to let that enter any conversation in his time here - but maybe it was. The jealousy is fresh and it's no old symptom he hoped it was. Putting that aside: this situation is what he's prepared for, something that his parents have expounded on, explained, and Otabek . . . well, despite that, he's not at rest, his mind is thick with everything. All the choices that are ultimately his to make. Maybe it'll be easier if he just lets them be made for him.

As they get out, JJ pops the trunk and Otabek hefts out all his bags in one go. The chilly air spreads icily across his exposed cheeks and a light breeze messes his hair that's already in disarray from the flight. He'll have jetlag for sure. What time is it again? Mid-afternoon here. He's too tired to do math to figure out what everyone's doing back home.

He looks at JJ's back as he (lightly clothed as usual, just some jacket and scarf, not even gloves to be seen) leads Otabek up the steps to the front of the house.

Looks to be a bi-level, old stripe of off-blue panel wrapping around, old windows; there's a screen door that JJ opens before sticking his key in the lock and opening the inside door, propping the screen with a knee. He pushes it out so it sticks; Otabek files in, stamping the snow off his brogues; JJ reaches back and pops the lock on the top bar so it swings shut with a  _bang!._ Then the inside door's closed, Otabek's got his shoes off, JJ's offering to show him his room, Otabek's just loosening his gloves and coat and looking around.

Certainly nothing like Otabek's house back home. His family's house is . . . it's got no character, but it sure is sleek. It sure fits in the high-end neighborhood. It's got six bedrooms and four bathrooms, a huge high ceiling in the living room, a dining room and a  _real_ dining room, some art his mother got abroad in Delhi, double-oven kitchen big as a couple bedrooms together, and a cleaner that comes every week - oh, and a study for the baby grand.

Now there's no clear color theme in this living room, JJ's house. There are plants on the windowsill, and pictures and art hung in no tasteful order on the walls. Mismatched pillows on a pair of small sofas that look to be wearing down. A chair that gives Otabek thoughts of wicker baskets; some clutter on a small plain coffee table; and the living room's small, for sure. He gets the impression the parents aren't home; there aren't any lights on, just a cool winter cast coming through from the bay window.

In one corner is a Christmas tree decked in no shortage of ornaments and beads and whatnot, a gaudy golden star with multicolored lights on top. It's not plugged in right now. Otabek inhales; there's the smell of evergreen; it must be a real one.

". . . . sold the piano, unfortunately," JJ talks on, motioning to the living room space. He scratches his head. "It's probably not what you're used to, eh?"

Why is Otabek  _trying_ not to look at him? Damn it. This was going to be his last go! No, he's still got to decide that. Nothing's final! It could be either way. It could perfectly well turn out either way. So he looks at Jean. He's already got his bags on the floor. Before even  _he_ knows what he's doing, he's wrapping JJ in an embrace, not the glancing one at the airport, and then they're kissing, of course. It happens too fast. Otabek's moving ahead of himself.

JJ's smiling and flustered and the thin ice is broken at last.

"We have to catch up," Otabek says promisingly, at the same time as he's trying to rearrange and forget and remember and catch up to  _himself,_  first.

"Yeah, yeah," JJ agrees, nodding.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_"Let's talk logically for a minute," his mother says._

_It's the second day he's been back. The first was too busy to really talk about anything except basics and business. The second day should have been, as well: family function and Otabek is exhausted from all the people all the time. Alina hasn't even been around yet; she's coming back from some sports development workshop tomorrow._

_It's 11:43 p.m. and they're at the table in the informal dining room. Whatever soft playlist continually loops through the living spaces of the house; fancy hung lights illuminate the bar counter. Well, Otabek's sitting there, his father is, and his mother has just come to join them._

_"About what?" Otabek says, clasping his hands together on the table in front of him, even though he knows the answer._

_"This boy. Your roommate you think you are with," and his mother makes a hand motion. His father looks at her to do the talking for now._

_"Yes," Otabek says. He's already made his mind up and they can't change it. There's that old anger in him, redirected at them, maybe for making him feel like this. When it's just him who feels like this. It's not their fault but he's reacting this way. Defensive. And on the heels of all this fire there's a sinking, metal disappointment in his stomach. Some shame, some guilt, of causing this. He swore he'd never disappoint his parents like this again. He remembers feeling useless and terrible that night when he told them over Skype. So although maybe he's decided what to feel (not that), he can't help the remnants brought to the surface in the moment, because the results of what he's done and who he's loved show in the concern - hurt, even, though it's been worked and filtered for them just as it has been for him - of his parents._

_He tries to bring the barriers down, have a civil conversation, maybe they can reach an agreement. That is, subconsciously, one of his goals for his time back home._

_"We didn't think you would be this foolish, Beka." His mother sighs. Her face shows her age but it's beautiful the same. Her dark hair has loosely been swept back. "We wouldn't want you doing this with a girl, either. Having a temporary relationship away at that university is wasteful. It's wasteful to you, Beka."_

_"It's not temporary, Mama."_

_"How do you know, Beka?" His mother sighs again. "See, have you thought this through? I know you are legally able to marry-" she makes a face - "-another man, but . . . you tell me, Beka, have you thought of that? I certainly hope you haven't and this is some silly flight of the heart."_

_"Oh no, I-" Otabek cuts himself off. He's blanched. The word "marry". Marriage? Hold up. Back up. He and Jean - they're - well, they're an item, for sure, if it was only a good week or two of it._

_"You would be throwing away your future," his father shakes his head._

_"Of course not_ marriage _," Otabek says. And this will prove to be important. In the moment it's blustery. It's knee-jerk, not thought out. So, is it dishonest, not long enough in the formation of a thought to be reliable? Or, is it the true subconscious, the real reaction making its way out before it can be tempered and turned?_

_Otabek doesn't know, and he'll ask himself in the days coming which was it, everything pivots from here, on this mountain of a question._

_"Then, why are you pursuing such a relationship?" Though his mother uses civil words, he can tell in her posture, slips of tone, what he knows through and through, that she does_ not  _support him being with - well, it's not Jean that's a problem, it's his sex. But her attitude shouldn't make her questions any less worth answering._

 _Otabek's rubbing his thumbs together. He looks down. Why_ is  _he with Jean, if he balks at the thought of making them so permanent? It's a fair question. It's an excellent question, in fact. He should have thought of it himself. "We're good for each other," is what he says, because that much he's felt. They're good_ with  _each other. He's never been loved like that before._

_"That won't get you your education or grades, or a job, or a house, or a family," his mother says critically. "What are his prospects like?" She shakes her head._

_"I don't really know," Otabek half-lies. All right, he'll tell the truth. "His parents had a lot of medical expenses at one point . . . they're not too well off," he says._

_"How is this boy paying for his tuition then?" his father asks._

_"He's on a scholarship," Otabek replies. His mother, at this, folds her arms and makes a_ tch!  _sound, shaking her head._

_"I have always believed if you can't pay for something yourself, if you can't work for it yourself, you don't deserve it!" she says to her husband. Then she looks back at Otabek. "All this aside." She makes a sweeping motion with her hand across the table. "Don't you see? Don't you realize, son?"_

_"We want what is_ best  _for you," his father says. "And at this time, you should focus on your studies. There's the possibility you can transfer back here."_

 _"We would_ love  _to have you home, Beka," his mother says longingly, lovingly. She shakes her head. "You do know we want what's right for you. You can believe us. We have experience you do not. We know what's best for you, Beka."_

_'Best' would have been studying music here, but Otabek fucked that one up, didn't he? Mila was a bitch! - knee-jerk, and immediately a swarm of emotions follows, guilt and a side of anger overriding most others. Without Jean, there's nothing blocking or stopping this, suddenly the issue is back, rearing its ugly head._

_On top of it all,_ marriage  _runs ridiculing through his head, testing itself in different tones._ Marriage!  _scoffing,_ can you believe it?

_All while they're saying good-night and then Otabek heads off to his own bedroom, second floor, expansive and furnished with the essentials, not too much else. He's got a walk-in closet, a large mirror on one wall, a guitar he can't (really) play in the corner, bookshelf, bed, keyboard and his backup sampler, desk for his laptop, headphones hanging, that's it. Two tall windows on another wall. It's a large room. The roof peaks and it could be an art studio if you made it._

_He has to go back and see Jean before second semester. He has to have a longer look. He has to play Jardins for him because he's been working on it. He loves Jean. He does! He forces the exclamation point. Emphasizing the truth. He doesn't need to convince himself of it, though the distance between them now stretches thin everything his heart knows._

_But what if it_ is  _just a silly flight of the heart? Oh, not like they'll get married, of course not. Why not? Of course not. Why not? The viewpoint flip-flops. There's no future with Jean, no tangible, measurable, certain and successful future._

_Future - it was only a couple weeks at the end of a semester._

_Otabek begs himself to remember the rush of when it didn't matter, when he realized that he didn't need that kind of future, he just needed Jean._

_But Jean isn't here, and it's his mother's words. The logic stands. The argument goes on inside him._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_At least his parents have kept everything private to the family. But somehow Alen knows. Otabek meets him. They used to bike together. Alen's married now and after going the usual route, nostalgia's not quite enough to mask what's between them._

_Alen asks for confirmation._ So, Otabek's seeing some guy?  _And then it's back to other offhand discourse, talk, and they go their separate ways (Alen has to run some stupid errand for his wife, something about her eyelashes)._

 _Otabek has the distinct impression that they're not friends like they were before and they never will be. Sure, Alen's now a married man, but the look that crossed Alen's face when Otabek nodded, responded,_ yes, my roommate JJ, he's a music major as well,  _seems to be the true culprit._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The kitchen has a plain set of stainless-steel sinks. The dishwasher and fridge and cupboards are white, although the fridge is pinned with a calendar and magnets and photos and cards so you can't really tell what color it is underneath. There's a small island with stacks of envelopes (bills, Otabek purposefully doesn't read them) and a basket of fruits in the middle of the kitchen, making it more cramped. Off the room is an area in front of the sliding door the backyard where a worn wooden table sits on the grey-beige-mottled linoleum.

Inside the cupboards are an excessive number of mismatched mugs, and a more reasonable, but just as random, collection of plates, though they're all stacked and ordered neatly.

The whole living room and kitchen and dining room is as big as Otabek's living room back home.

He's put his stuff in the spare bedroom. JJ's apologized for lack of space. There's a quilt on the bed paneled with red and pink flowers; an old dresser with a mirror; one window, and a closet that's topped with taped-shut cardboard boxes. Otabek dismisses the concern; he doesn't need much for his short stay here.

After the house tour, which doesn't take long - Otabek's room is in the basement, where there is a TV in a den sort of room and a bathroom, the laundry - they're upstairs in Jean's room.

"My mom sometimes works weekends at the Montreal Children's Hospital. Otherwise, our hospital here, but she's away right now. She's a RN. My dad is head parts at Eastern Trail in town too. He'll be home in a couple hours," JJ explains while Otabek looks around.

It's night and day to Otabek's room in Kazakhstan. Smaller, no grand height of course, and much more personally decorated. Posters of bands, quite a few signed, on the walls. Must be mostly indie. A framed hockey jersey with sharpie signatures. Otabek doesn't recognize names. Desk with all sorts of things on it: stationery, papers, pictures in frames, a mug with some Marvel comic characters on it (that's something Otabek knows Jean likes), a few books. The closet has stripes of mostly warm tones on hangers. On a ledge that runs halfway around the room there's an impressive assembled LEGO set of a city block: barbershop, restaurant, etc. Walls are the same vague brown as the rest of the house. On the floor is JJ's luggage bag, half-open. The only thing similar to Otabek's own room is a guitar sitting in the corner. He wonders if JJ can play. Probably, he guesses, maybe not very well, or he'd have known by now.

JJ's sat down on his bed, dark blue quilt.

"Uh, yeah, so this is it, my room," he says. "You know, it's nice being home. You could meet some of my friends. If you want to. Oh, you have got to meet Bella!"

Otabek's attention has been caught by the pictures on Jean's desk. There's one of maybe grade-5-ish JJ, in a hockey uniform. Then there's one of him and a young girl. Another of the same pair, a little older, looks like they're playing in the backyard on a trampoline. Must be Jenay, because there's no pictures of the same girl any older.

He turns his attention back to Jean.

"Sure," he says. He's not sure about it. He's not sure how he'll be introduced. Truthfully, he's a little apprehensive of even meeting JJ's parents.

"How was Kazakhstan? How was it with your parents and seeing everyone?" JJ asks, at last, after a short pause - he must have run out of all his own stories and information. His tone conveys the caution that he's prepared for not the most positive answer. "I thought we were gonna Skype each other more."

They only talked once while Otabek was away. Otabek had just been so busy.

"Well . . ." Otabek rubs his eyes. He's really very tired. "I saw everyone." And he means that. "I was really busy. I guess it was good . . . " But he doesn't mean that in his heart-of-hearts, because he went feeling so certain and came back with an empty checklist, a to-be-completed cost-benefit analysis. "I'll tell you later. I've been up for 20 hours. I'm thinking I'll sleep for now."

"Oh yeah, sure." JJ jumps up.

Otabek easily falls asleep, doesn't matter the room, doesn't matter the bed. He's only a few minutes with stitching together pieces of the puzzle -  _future? relationship?_ with Jean's kiss and his mother's advice, Otabek's own  _true_ desire to make something of himself that's more permanent, it seems, than the way his heart's leapt out of his chest for JJ, the pure  _cost_ of it - he's lost Alen, his parents, disappointed - but could he ever be complete without Jean? Could he ever be complete  _with_ Jean? (Seeing  _her_  was a bad decision, that makes Otabek think he's not the man for anyone. Or anyone like that, anyone, maybe, like  _this._ He tries to convince himself of the cover-up. Nothing will slip if he has his way.)

Sleep's a welcome break from everything going on in his head.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There's the usual few seconds of disorientation - where is he? what's this strange room, strange smell, though not unwelcome?

Right, JJ's place.

He pushes back the covers, feeling chilly, swipes his phone off the little bedside stand: 5:48 a.m. All right then. He must have slept straight through supper and the night.

No point in going back to sleep, or trying to sleep in, which is always just waking up every half hour anyways. He pulls on a pair of pants and finds his sleep shirt from where he's obliviously struggled it off in the night, shrugs on a hoodie. Shower later after JJ gets up, or maybe he'll just take the liberty and figure it out himself.

It's cold in the basement. He leaves his room and heads upstairs. The fourth step on the lower flight creaks. Carpet.

In the hallway there's someone at the thermostat turning it up; of a sudden a background humming fwoosh starts. This must be JJ's father.

Not the least awkward first meeting, but it would be even more awkward to stand and wait to be greeted, so Otabek trepidatiously waits that split second until his presence is noticed and steps forward to initiate a handshake.

"-Good morning," the man says; he's got a square face, wearing a plain long-sleeved shirt and jeans, black, grey-streaked hair around a receding hairline, smiling and clasping Otabek's hand warmly. "Good to finally meet you, Otabek."

Slightly taken aback by the genuinely positive welcome, compared to what he was bracing himself for, Otabek replies, "And you too, Mr. . . ?"

"No need, you can call me Alain," he says, the pronunciation distinctive with a natural accent, waving Otabek off. "You're up early. Jet lag won't let you sleep? Do you drink coffee?"

Alain goes to the kitchen, turns on lights. Otabek follows.

They end up eating at the table opposite each other and Otabek doesn't find it half as awkward as he thought it would be. Alain's a ready talker and tells Otabek about his work and a bit about the area, referencing JJ a few times, over Otabek's coffee and Alain's porridge which he sprinkles with brown sugar.

Alain shelves his bowl and spoon in the dishwasher when he's done, and Otabek's finishing a short explanation of the climate where he's from.

"Help yourself. We don't have fancy breakfasts, but it's good food," Alain says, motioning to the pot on the stove. "Excuse me, I have to run to work. JJ should be up . . . well, he'll be up eventually," Alain finishes with a slight chuckle and heads off down the hallway.

Otabek leaves his hands around his cup as he sits in the wooden chair. There's a half-inch of coffee cooling at the bottom.

How different this all is. He feels more out of place even though Alain's welcomed him in more naturally than Otabek expected. The paradox is unsettling.

It tasted good, what he did drink, but Otabek doesn't finish his coffee.

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

JJ slouches and yawns and cooks and meddles around just as he would do when he got comfortable in their dorm at the university. Strangely they exchange some niceties but there's just a blanket of silence over the intermittent hum of the furnace; goodbyes when Alain leaves for work; and then JJ's just eating breakfast.

"Not hungry?" he asks Otabek around a mouthful. Otabek shakes his head. He's standing in the living room and looking at the pictures.

JJ scrolls through his phone while eating. As he's rattling his dishes into the dishwasher, he says, "Hey Beka, do you want to go meet Bella today? She's free after 3 and we were thinking we could just take a walk on the creek trails. And of course there's fireworks tonight. I think Reina is going and some other people you could meet."

"Sure," Otabek agrees. Funny how he's used to  _Beka_ now. It just shoves the contrast between  _his_ home and  _this_ home towards a starker finish. Or will they blend, the two environments, the two - it's something deeper than that, but Otabek's too tired to think that far.

"So you still haven't told me all the cool stuff you did in Kazakhstan. Right?" JJ says, coming over to where Otabek's still looking at pictures. JJ launches into an explanation of some of the photos, but eventually returns to his prompt.  _So, Kazakhstan? We're catching up, right, Beka?_

"Yeah," Otabek says, and sits down on one of the worn loveseat, nudging aside cushions with a thigh. JJ sits beside him and puts an arm around his shoulder.

Otabek  _would_ lean his head on Jean, if they were not just about to talk about this.

JJ breathes in like he's going to say something but just waits instead.

Otabek twists his lips.

"I talked to my parents. They talked to me."

"Did they change their minds?"

Jean's warmth cushions Otabek's side. Otabek snorts. "Of course not."

"And you told them . . . ?" JJ prompts. There's just the tiniest threads of tension that JJ's words walk out on to reach Otabek.

"I told them . . . we were good for each other," Otabek says. JJ hums agreeably. "But they still don't want us to be together."

"Hm." JJ casts his gaze down. His undercut's getting long and undefined; black hair fringes in his face. It's got a wavy curl in it, bit more than usual. "But we are, right?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Two days before Otabek leaves: before he decides to leave._

_His parents have clearly seen his manners and polite behaviour at all the visiting they've done, functions they've been to, and events at which Otabek's been introduced to a few select families with young women about the proper age for him to be interested in. He's been stubborn. He's got solace in hanging around with Alina. They played Smash and went biking and to the sportsplex. With her he's got nothing to worry about and no obligation to discuss anything or prove he's good to take care of himself._

_At the bar-counter/table arrangement (triangle of interrogation/conversation) they ask questions about his living situation and then lay down the law._

_They will not pay for his dorm if he's staying on with this JJ boy. Granted, first they ask him to move dorms, but he's signed for both semesters. "He could have to move out," Otabek shrugs, but that's just a reach of the imagination. So there it is: no more money for that. Well, Otabek's got enough in the bank (money from the parents as well, but it's his to access), but they know that._

_"What about my bike and the leased car?" Otabek pushes, because he needs to know._

_"We will_ not  _support this behavior of yours!" his mother bursts out. She stands up from her seat at the table and looks back to her husband, at the bar counter. His face is just set with that disappointment that Otabek loathes to see, because it makes him feel cheap, makes him feel like he's failed. "Do you know how much work your father and I have put into making connections for you? And all you will do is shake hands?"_

_Otabek makes a tight noise in his throat. "I appreciate that you did all this for me, but-"_

_"If you appreciate it, Otabek, you need to show it," his mother returns._

_"I can't!" Otabek gestures angrily. "I'll pay my own way then!"_

_"Don't be foolish, you know you can't," his father says._

_"You know you can't," his mother repeats. "Think of what we talked about. Your future, Beka. Do what you know is right. Not what you_ feel  _is right."_

_Otabek groans and puts his head in his hands, slumping._

_Eventually he comes out with this:_

_"I'll talk to the university and JJ and see if we can move rooms apart."_

_It's not enough to satisfy, because in the tone and with the reaction it's a pacifier, but it stops the conversation and his parents watch him go as he climbs the stairs up to his bedroom._

_Maybe they leave him alone for now because they know he's heard good reason, he knows good reason, and he'll_ have  _to make the choice._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"They won't pay for anything for me unless I . . . unless we cut it off," Otabek tells JJ.

"What? That's stupid. What will they do, send some bodyguards down here or something to watch you?" Jean snorts, but then grows serious, because being disowned is a big deal and not some enforced punishment, a natural and terrible consequence if Otabek should fall off from his family.

"They don't want us together not only because of . . . because it means I'm gay . . ."

"I thought you were bi," JJ interrupts.

"It's all the same to them," Otabek says. "But not only that. Because . . . I have a future if I follow a different plan. Path." When the words come out, they turn back around to bite him, but he holds stiff. He's got to say more. He's got to reason it out. Lay it all down for JJ to help him piece together.  _Cost-benefit._ "It's not just about money."

"Because we don't have much," JJ says grimly, obviously referring to his family.

"Not just that. My parents are ... they have a good social circle. They want me to transfer back to Kazakhstan. I could get . . . I could have a career like I've always wanted with zero worries about anything. They've worked so that I have this waiting for me."

For once, JJ's silent.

"But they've said it has to be without you. Pretty much," Otabek continues.

JJ's still silent.

"And if I'm with you, I lose them. And they'll never accept you, you'll never get that," Otabek says.

Still silent.

Now Otabek's said it all. (Most of it. Not anything about  _her._ Because he can't. He'll never be able to. He won't.)

"I know it's not a fairy tale, I know we can't say  _we'll just make it work_ and it'll work, I mean, it could, but it would never be easy, not as easy as you'd have it, but you knew that, we knew that, you said you wanted -" JJ says at once; he frowns; "you said you wanted  _me._ Not all that shit."

It's so, so raw. Otabek finds the other half of his mind because he's going to fall off the edge if he can't keep hold on his sanity. "It's not the material things that matter. It's who my family is to me. It's that they want this for me . . . they love me too, Jean . . . They've loved me longer." Otabek turns to look at Jean, he's too close on the small sofa, royal blue eyes open to read as always, as ever, and Otabek's afraid this last admission might cut too deep (he doesn't want to hurt anyone! he  _doesn't want to hurt anyone,_ he's trying so hard).

He braces for the rebuttal.

But?

"I get it," Jean says, his lips barely moving, shadows squirming at the corners of his eyes and mouth, just looking at Otabek.

Soft and deep and ever-so-honest. It goes straight to the heart and Otabek fumbles with his follow-up because - well, he might have preferred anger, outrage, to  _this_ reaction.

Otabek breaks their long gaze by looking aside. "They - my mother, my father - asked about marriage," and Otabek hiccups a laugh incredulously. "JJ, we kissed. We fucked," he says softly to follow up, "But."

"But," JJ breathes, looking at Otabek, and Otabek looks back, because Jean's not taking his eyes away. They're so close. "But?"

Otabek's all too sure that JJ thinks there  _is_ no  _but_ , that he's a firm believer and sold on the idea of  _one day it could be Mr and Mr_ , but he refuses to think of that in the moment and pushes himself up, breathes out, stands:

"I don't know if we should be anything more."  _If I can make us anything more._

JJ still sits.

There is a long and uncomfortable silence.

Finally JJ says:

"OK. All right. How about - how about we think about that for a while. There's still time here." He gets up, scratches his head. "God, Beka." But it's not angry, it sounds twisted and tight instead and more introspective than anything.

Otabek nods. There's some relief in this course of action, although he feels like it's not going to help anything one bit.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The rest of the day is a thankful blur. There's no shortage of conversation. Isabella turns out to be every bit as lovely as Otabek expected. She's witty, she's got a sense of humor, she's pretty, she's a good conversationalist and she and JJ have a full repertoire of inside jokes. They're still on excellent terms and Otabek's included in the group seamlessly. After supper, he meets a larger group, again, this phenomenon of instant acceptance, and it's off to hang out, live music and fireworks in the park.

Maybe Otabek would be missing piano if he had headspace to miss it.

This whole time he tries to keep up, he tries to buoy his spirits to match everyone else's - despite their earlier discussion, JJ's boisterous and happy as ever, putting aside concerns for the moment, reunited with friends after a whole semester separation - but it's just like when Otabek met Alain in the morning.

He just feels - worse.

He's a fake, he doesn't belong.

Maybe it's because the whole time, he's thinking of leaving this. Disowning friends as he's making them. Considering affluence instead of this patchwork group of people who drive Pontiac Sunfires and are content to get messy and not jab pointed jokes at each other in attempts to come out on top (that's what Otabek's used to from his high school). Even as he smiles and shakes someone's hand, laughs with them about a story they're telling, he's arranging everything he's learning:  _she's a digital artist, but she's going to school for accounting because that will pay the bills - she'll end up spending her life boring her way through the week with a hobby on the side, maybe a small step up from where she started, and her children might be another small step up from where they start, but in the end . . ._ And on and on, and Otabek tries to form something out of the grey area of  _what should happen if he and Jean continue together_ but it's really . . . it's really much the same.

See, he has a gift. He has an opportunity in life. He's privileged. All right, he'll say it.  _Rich boy._ But it's the product of his family's love and care. Should he not return it? His duty is accepting it, nothing more. The easiest show of thanks.

JJ's parents find them and join; some other parents in the friend group; Otabek meets Nathalie Leroy, who has a terrible haircut, but seems quite sensible and comes off as a smart lady.

The fireworks boom and whistle and the gathered crowd shivers and oohs and ahhs.

JJ glances at Otabek, separated by a few bodies.

A brief set of sparklers light up his face, then it's dark again, and Otabek couldn't tell what sort of look that was.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_The music academy has their concert and Otabek attends with his family. They're invited to the gala afterwards as well._

_When they announce Mila Babicheva as the featured soprano soloist of a Donizetti aria, and she sweeps on stage, in a long black-flowered-over-sheer gown and carries off the high melismas effortlessly, strings gracefully accompanying, spotlight shining the sparkles off her dress . . . Otabek's shoulders tighten and something curls in his stomach._

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck_ FUCK.

_It's jealousy._

_He's not over her._

_Will he ever be?_

_So he makes it his highest call of duty, his utmost prerogative, to avoid Mila Babicheva at the after-gala. He straightens his suit (dark green) and accepts a glass of champagne and turns to -_

_\- face Mila Babicheva._

_She's a good inch and a half taller than him in short heels. Of course she's no less beautiful than when Otabek last saw her. Cherry red hair flows evenly parted over hidden sideshave. Tiny garlanded crystal earrings lace her earlobes; her lashes are dark but her bright blue eyes, light and vivacious, shine through. The dress hugs her curves, accentuates her hips and thighs._

_Otabek has absolutely no clue what to expect, but it's certainly going to be jabbing and humiliating and -_

_\- but she smiles and flirts._

_Flirts with him._

_She says she's over everything. Not like it never happened, you know? But she feels bad for him that he didn't get into the Academy, that he had to go over wherever-he-was. She says her mother overreacted. Anyways . . . did he miss her?_

_Here's the thing: Otabek didn't think he did._

_(He knew he did. He didn't think he did. He purposefully never, ever, never, EVER formed the words in his consciousness,_ I-miss-Mila-Babicheva,  _because that would make him a complete idiot, missing the woman who he gave himself to and who manipulated and used him and -)_

_Then as Mila's laid her hand on his arm through the talkative crowd in the chandelier ballroom lights he glimpses his parents and they see him with Mila and there's a slight rise in his mother's expression. Something hopeful._

_He flounders for some excuse to get away but he really can't leave her. It's back full-force. Right there at his side it's something so strong he can't think of anything else. Just a bit, just a little bit . . . just . . . he's telling her about university . . . she mentions the rumor he's with a guy . . . he says - he SAYS - Otabek says, like he's not himself at all, he says,_ I tried it,  _so noncomittally. Dismissively. Like it's over. It never started._

_If Jean were . . . If JJ were standing right there and heard him blatantly -_

_But in the moment there's no time to regret. There's no motive to regret, shamefully._

_He needs to hear about her. She volunteers information. She said she saw Yuri Plisetsky for a month. But he wasn't her type. He's too young for her._ Skilled musician though.  _And all that makes the jealousy worse because Yuri Plisetsky he's known for a long time, another familial thing, always a year younger and a year better, and to think Otabek was shoved off to Canada leaving Yuri Plisetsky to have Mila -_

You missed me, didn't you?  _she says as they leave because somehow she's coaxed him into a bike ride._

You missed me,  _is what her body suggests, when they stop back at her house (even more high-end than Otabek's) and she presses in to kiss him, wraps her arms around him. She commands him. The feeling's too familiar and it's intoxicating. Her fingers on his back, a sharpness to the way they dig into his suit jacket. No asking. No agreement. Otabek lets it happen. He gives in._

_If there's one thing Otabek is ever safe from, that's confusing Mila's brand of love with Jean's._

_He manages to head back home alone. Albeit, it's 3 a.m. His head's spinning. But he's not had too much to drink, just one glass - he makes it to the bathroom to throw up nevertheless. Doesn't help how sick he feels. Maybe he_ is  _sick. What kind of weak-minded shit would miss a girl like Mila? Who'd miss the accusations, the control, the rules, oh the hundreds of rules, who'd miss taking every hit and not returning a single one? And who, who the fuck, would come back to it? Who'd come back after something so much better?_

Otabek would,  _he mocks himself._

_He tosses and turns all night, all night long, the image and feeling of Mila sticking fresh._

xxxxxxxxx

At 4:12 a.m. Otabek opens the door to JJ's room. It's probably only about 14 celsius in the house; furnace is turned down for the night.

He turns on the light.

He watches JJ shift and sit up, blanket falling off, wearing a worn shirt with some Marvel comic graphics on it, rubbing his eyes.

"Beka whaaaa . . . " JJ slurs, blinking.

"I slept with Mila," Otabek says.

JJ hoist himself forward on the bed, eyes managing to slit open in the light that seems so fake at this time of morning (night).

" . . . Huh?"

"I slept with Mila," Otabek repeats.

Jean's head tilts. He blinks.

"In Kazakhstan?" he says, no tone to the question.

"Yes."

"Oh."

Otabek hasn't thought this far. He hasn't thought of this at all. He swore to himself he'd ever tell Jean about this. He didn't think he had it in him. But here he is now.

"For some fucking reason, I . . . I saw her and . . . the bitch has a part of me and I still need her," Otabek says. He swallows, hard. His skin chills; he's still got a hand on the doorknob, round with that cheap gold look.

"You miss her," Jean says, sort of a question.

"I miss how she hit me and how she cried after. How she forced me into . . . to do what she wanted and framed it like my choice. I miss every fucking thing she said to tear me down and build me up again." It's taken so long to say those words, and here they are now, at the worst possible time in the worst possible context to the best possible person. Which makes it: the worst.

JJ sits there. The light's yellow and harsh on him.

 _Please be angry,_ Otabek thinks. He needs someone to tear into him. He needs someone to realize all this guilt inside him. He needs someone to put him in his place, where he belongs.

"It's your brain," JJ, after a pause, motions to his own head, "It's psychology. You need help, man." His hand returns to the quilt rumpled around him. And what's that in his blue, blue eyes? It's not pity. Otabek searches for anger on his face. There is some, tightening around his temples - but then in the turn of his lips and the creases above his eyes, his dark brow? Sorrow. Sorrow.  _Sorrow._

No, _that's_  the fucking  _worst._

Otabek's heart snaps furiously, raging with what he can't decipher what anymore. He can't do anything except turn and leave.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It takes every mite and speck of Otabek's willpower to get out of bed at 10:30 a.m. All his final grades are posted and he's got a respectable 3.9. It does absolutely, miserably,  _nothing_ for his mental state.

They've got to leave for university in a couple days, but Otabek's got a tab open for the next available flight.

Upstairs, JJ's stirring something at the stove. He looks at Otabek. Jean's eyes are red like he didn't get much sleep either.

Immediately he drops his spoon and faces Otabek.

"Beka, I hope you know I'm not angry or -" JJ starts pleadingly.

"No!" Otabek shouts, flinching at his own tone. He goes to sit at the table. He puts his head in his hands. See, this is why he didn't want to come up here and talk to Jean because he needs someone to throw shit at him, not to sympathize or whatever JJ's doing.

"You need help, though. Sure, let's put a pause - " JJ continues.

"I  _don't need help!_ Nothing will change it!  _Nothing!_ " Otabek shouts.

"Beka, I know you feel like that but trust me it can get bett-"

" _Don't waste your time!_ "

"I'm not, Beka, I love y-"

" _DON'T!"_

Sharp and heavy like a guillotine falling. Finally there's frustration plain on JJ's face, he's gotten a rise out of him, but this turns out to be not what he wanted either.

Otabek lunges up and shoves his chair in and stalks to the door, throws on his coat and gloves. Soon he's out of the house into the cold air of the new year.

Maybe he can physically escape, maybe he's miles away from Mila, but she's still in his head, and JJ - he has to keep him out.

It's the least he can do: he's well on his way to convincing himself of that.

xxxxxxxx

Otabek comes back in quietly as he can. There are voices from the kitchen area. Nathalie and JJ talking in French, dynamic and urgent tones. It is Nathalie's day off, Otabek foggily remembers JJ telling him. . . . he realizes he probably woke her up with his yelling earlier.

He swallows and stays there, at the landing, a flight of steps up and a flight down, not sure what to do. If they say anything about him . . . he wants to catch it. He wants to know how much damage he's done.

Eventually they switch to English; it's like Nathalie is reading something.

"Previous recipients are invited to apply the following year . . . There is still a chance, Jay, next year, make sure you apply by the summer deadline."

"Maman here . . . click that link . . . "

They seem to be searching for something on the internet. Nathalie reads again.

"'Email notification is final. Sorry, but we do not accept reevaluations past the deadline for course registration for the Winter semester'."

There's a breach of silence.

"I can still try to phone them, Jay," Nathalie says.

"No . . . " JJ's voice comes faintly. "Nothing will change it," he says.

The statements sparks his own words previous, painful in Otabek's ears. Maybe it's his final grades.

"Shhhh," Nathalie says. There's sounds of, well, Otabek knows them too well, JJ panicking, breaths too urgent and disabled.

Otabek stews in his misery, hidden at the foot of the stairs, as Nathalie waits for her son to quiet, with soft directional encouragers.

"You're prepared for this. You did get accepted into your second choice for first year," she says after a minute or so when it sounds like JJ's calmed down.

"But I don't . . . " JJ says. "It's better for us anyways."

He sounds so sad. So sad.

"It's not your last chance. Apply for the scholarship again for next year."

There it is. JJ lost his scholarship. Otabek inhales sharply.

"I was just 0.05 off," JJ laments. "Why? Why can't they?" He sounds frustrated now. "And I lose my room, too. Dorms are so expensive - "

"You can live off campus. We know people there. There's the Lagranges. They moved there 5 years ago. Of course they have young children now . . ."

Then they switch back to French.

Otabek's stomach can't sink any lower.

He came here to have his choices be made for him, right? And here it is. It's ugly and broken and it's pretty much done now, isn't it?

He makes enough noise to hopefully alert the mother and son upstairs then goes down to book the next flight, to message his parents and say he'll not be living with JJ anymore - but he doesn't send the entered text, because it still needs more detail, a final stamp.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

JJ comes down to tell him that he's lost the scholarship. He's still shaky and Otabek desperately wants to ground him, to comfort him, but he's pushed himself too far past the trust limit for that.

JJ glances around the room, seeing Otabek's packed up.

"So I won't be in the dorm with you anymore," JJ finishes after recounting details. GPA too low. That's about it. No money now. "Or in the faculty."

"I see," Otabek says.

"You're leaving," JJ notes.

"Yes," Otabek says.

JJ looks at him. "Not forever, though?"

"Maybe."

"Beka." JJ shakes his head. "Look, we had something. We still have something. This doesn't change anything if we don't let it."

Of course they have something. Rather Otabek does. He doesn't feel like JJ's getting anything from him, and what he does have, well, JJ deserves to have it back.

He doesn't say anything; his lips are clamped shut; JJ's look intensifies.

"It's like the whole last semester never happened!" JJ's voice rises. "Like we never lived together, like you never did my homework and accompanied me and made me calm down only a million times and I kissed you and you kissed me and you said you  _just wanted me -_ "

"Jean . . . I don't, not now," Otabek forces himself to say. That's the biggest fucking lie. The hugest un-truth he's ever told. Every part of him  _screams_ for Jean but he  _can't. Let. Himself. Have. It._ "I can't."

JJ's looking wild, like he's going ten different directions at once, his face is a scrunched mess of emotions. Otabek waits for an exclamation, some further plea that might just break him open. Oh, Otabek could break open. He knows if Jean crosses the few feet to where he's standing and kisses him and they go down on the bed together he'll stay.

But Jean wouldn't do that, that's Mila's play right there, that's  _her_ kind of game, because she always wins.

Jean doesn't always win.

His posture firms. He steps back out and aside of the door frame.

"I won't tell you to leave," he says, tone hard.

When the taxi pulls up outside and Otabek steps out, the last words he says are a laughable,  _text me if you need anything,_ and that's it.

He doesn't look to see if JJ's watching him go.

On the way to the airport, he adds the missing piece of information to the message for his parents:

_and we're not together anymore. I broke it off._

And it's all on him.


	2. Chapter 2

The university's such a familiar haunt.

Plane trip was short; taxi takes him and his sparse luggage to the lot and bus loop around Education; from there it's a five-minute walk, but he's got to stop at the Square first to get his card renewed.

Then it's off to their - no, his, now - dorm. Apparently they have new number locks on them instead of keys. He looks at the sequence on the myU app and punches it in; door swings open; it's a bright and clear and cold day.

As they left it.

_It is highly recommended to change your lock sequence . . ._

Otabek dumps his suitcase down and goes to the lock. What's significant? Today, for sure. He changes it to today's date. Everything starts over from here, right?

Why does he still feel like his insides have gone sour? So he told JJ what a shitbag he was. And JJ pulled the sympathy card. Like he knew he would. He doesn't need that. Hell, he's 19-almost-20. Life goes on. You have to grow up without crutches or  _help_ or this or that or the other thing.

Otabek fixes his thoughts on home and Kazakhstan and keeping the money from his parents flowing. Well, they're the ones who want to give him the funding, so he won't say no. Right? Right.

He busies himself with getting settled for the next half hour. Doesn't take long to unpack.

JJ will have to come by and get all his stuff he left. Otabek determines to box them up for him so it's quick and easy and a cleaner tear between them. Only this isn't the best idea.

Otabek's scrolling JJ's scarves around his hands before dumping the wound-up balls of fabric in a bag together with random outwear and stuff. He's got to try and think back a little for some of the scarves. Whose is it again? And inevitably he's pressing the material to his face to inhale, and that's a bad idea, makes his stomach vault and makes him think he's just a puppet with too many strings and too many handlers, 'cause he can't stop the reaction to the wet-lemon-smoke-wood mix that's JJ's scent, 'cause he can't forget Mila's red hair and 'cause he can't . . .  _life goes on,_ but . . .

He tosses the scarf sharply into the bag. JJ probably won't even need it now. Not a music major. Otabek doesn't know what he'll do instead - he snips off the bud of curiosity - and he doesn't  _need_ to know what.

All the toiletries and bottles, T-shirts and textbooks, papers and electronics - he left his tablet here. While moving it to the stack Otabek accidentally presses the unlock button. It's a hilariously motion-blurry picture of him and JJ in selfie mode when they were fooling around right after midterms ended, in the empty Camme Hall.

Eventually JJ's room has been cleared out for him. The fridge and cupboards are fairly bare of food; Otabek packs all JJ's dishes though. He'll have to do the shopping now, unless whoever his new roommate is likes to.

His phone buzzes. It's Sara. They text hi and whatnot. They compared notes from final exam results while Otabek was still in Quebec.

 **Sara:** so don't tell Michele, but Ima be your roommate until my paperwork goes through

 **Otabek:** Your paperwork?

 **Sara:** yea I put through a request for a single dorm? but it's going to take them awhile. probably a week. Naomi works in admin and she says yours is a spare

 **Otabek:** So I have it to myself otherwise?

 **Sara:** Iguess usually, I don't know, Naomi said no one was there rn?

 **Otabek:** No

 **Sara:** OK good. I just wanna come back earlier and need a room. don't tell Michele

 **Otabek:** I barely know your brother, except that he still thinks we're an item

 **Sara:** well don't tell anyone who would tell him. and of course he does. he's always suspicious. I swear he needs to be someone's PHD topic for older-brother-syndrome. he's not back yet tho. anyways see you in a couple days

 **Otabek:** Sure

 **Sara:** you know I'm gonna ask what happened with JJ. is it public info

 **Otabek:** Sure, he lost his scholarship, he's living off campus and doing something else

 **Sara:** OMG what? u guys are still together tho?

 **Otabek:** No

 **Sara:** oh kk

I feel bad for him tho losing that

 **Otabek:** For sure

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The perfunctory walk around campus to sort out where his classes are: more piano, choir, another theory, another history, and he's decided to take a vocal performance class because ~~he doesn't have JJ~~ why not. Buying food, using the gym, it's still a few days; he doesn't know if he wants to be social with the usual crowd (Yuuri and Victor return on the 2nd) so he just stays put and works on tracks. Maybe put out a short EP in the summer. Although it seems the whole mood of everything he puts down in Loops has changed. None of this Jardins- and Pagodes-themed music. Those he listens to again and actually  _deletes_ straight off his laptop.

Start fresh.

JJ comes knocking on the 3rd.

Otabek opens the door.

"Fancy lock, huh?" JJ says. Otabek makes room for JJ to come in and nods aside to all JJ's stuff he's put by the door. "I didn't text first, I just figured . . . " JJ steps in and follows Otabek's gaze. Otabek sees him press his lips together and swallow. All his belongings gathered to one place. "Thanks," JJ says, barely making eye contact. His eyes dodge back down. It looks like he's going to bend down and pick up a couple of the boxes. But he doesn't, he looks back at Otabek. And Otabek has to return the look.

Deep blue eyes and dark, dark brown hair with a fresh undercut, always those permanent inches taller than Otabek, winter coat that's a geometric red pattern, and for once - for  _once,_ the first time - his heart isn't scrawled all over his face. There's an expression caged; he just stands and looks.

Something in Otabek's gut snaps and puts itself back, breaks and repairs, because  _he_ did this, he profaned what they had. But he's moving on. Very soon, so soon, if JJ will just take his things and  _get out of here_ this could be the last time they're ever alone together.

"Hey JJ!"

The cheerful exclamation breaks the spell. They both turn to look out. It's Sara pulling a carry-on and another of her friends lugging two suitcases.

Both boys greet them but it's JJ who grins and chats -  _hey, Sara! hey Naomi -_ apparently that's Naomi -  _how was your Christmas?_

And they talk and laugh and annoy Otabek because here he is with his door open and only a brief dodge in from Naomi to put all Sara's stuff inside and confirm that he  _is_ officially alone for now but the room is a spare that could be filled at short notice.

He doesn't want to come across as cold, and especially not towards JJ, so he waits it out until it seems like they've caught up somewhat and JJ nods to all his stuff -  _wow, that's too bad you lost the scholarship, off-campus huh?_ from Sara, but a laughing shrug from JJ,  _hey it's cheaper, dorms are expensive,_ and Otabek knows that's all a facade.

Eventually the girls arrive at the conclusion they'll help JJ take all his stuff from here to his new place. Sara just gives Otabek a quick nod,  _Be back,_ and he can finally shut the door after the party of three heads out.

The dorm is too quiet. Now there's nothing left of JJ in it.

Good, right?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Lagranges are a family of four. Mother, father and two children, 5 and 9. They live in a $600,000 house in a very nice neighbourhood. The bus stop to the train station is only a 5-minute walk away.

JJ has never met the youngest child; she was born shortly after they moved away from the Leroy's city. It's been a long time. Nevertheless, they seem willing to welcome him with open arms. The father is a manager inside an affluent company and the mother works for the government. Over the phone, they've confirmed room and board for a cut price, because the families know each other.

His room is in the basement. He has a bathroom that's pretty much his own, and a living space with a TV and dry bar that's pretty much his own, but no guarantees. Everything's clean and the bedroom is small but it will do; the queen-size bed is plush with excessive pillows and a dark brown duvet.

It's good to be moving in with people they know, that's the general viewpoint from the Leroy's side of things, and the Lagranges prepare a special supper the first night JJ's there - the children are excited and won't stop bringing photo albums and things they made at school to show him. JJ offers to take some chores and duties around the house since that's what he's used to. They catch up. Eventually he's got time to unpack. Eventually he finishes, mostly, and lies down on the bed with his phone.

 **Jay:** i got th tour of the house and it seems rly nice

 **Bella:** Oh good! Did you get your things from Otabek? How was he?

 **Jay:** ye hes done.

 **Bella:** Well you know what I said. If he dropped you like that it's good he did it sooner than later.

 **Jay:** but i know him hes not like that, its just cause of this other girl he needs help bella im worried about him

 **Bella:** You shouldn't be tho.

 **Jay:** i know

 **Bella:** :P worry about you. Make sure you take your meds.

 **Jay:** i KNOW

 **Bella:** You never fail to come up with some flowery excuse of why not to take them.

 **Jay:** side effects...

 **Bella:** Yes, but you see, you take them for a month and the worst of it all goes away. I'm just reminding you of what you already know.

 **Jay:** i dont know what ill do without him. he was really good B, he was good at taking me down

 **Bella:** Well take your meds.

 **Jay:** fine sure bye

 **Bella:** Get settled. Call your parents!

 **Jay:** yes MOM

 **Bella:** :P and make friends.

 **Jay:** u know me

always do man

 **Bella:** I mean real friends.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sara returns in an hour. After a rather extensive bit of catching-up, which makes Otabek half-forget about everything for at least a brief moment in time, she sets up temporary shop in JJ's old room and soon the bathroom's got girl shit everywhere.

It's just more cluttered than Otabek prefers. JJ had one bottle of shampoo. Sara's got two bottles of shampoo, a pump of bodywash, and another bottle of conditioner, and that's just in the shower.

Oh well.

Thereafter Sara's out of the dorm to meet friends or whatever. Otabek notes she didn't volunteer any information about JJ's place or ask further about him and Otabek, and this he's thankful for. She seems to be pretty concerned with Michele not finding out that she's crashing here for several days.  _That would be like,_ she'd said, blue-gray eyes wide,  _yeah, not good._

Otabek's also found out he's received a $1750 scholarship which will help a bit. Something for vocal side activities. And, apparently, Michele had had his eye on this one - that's what Sara said when Otabek told her. (Otabek didn't even know it existed or that he'd been in the selection pool.)  _Gee, he better not find out you got this either,_ Sara had said. But Otabek barely has said 10 words to Michele before, so he's not worried.

There's the EP to work on. He's frustrated. He's ditching the complexities of the usual melodic-based tracks he likes for rhythm, he seems to be spending more time on the bass line. Friday after school starts he's playing at the club, sharing the headline with another producer from out of town. So something's gotta happen besides remixes, he feels, to get good exposure.

It's a much better proposition to wrap himself up in these details than to return again and again to the cause eating away at his insides. But he might need something stronger to be able to ignore it, something to eliminate the emotions he's  _so fucking tired_ of feeling.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **Jay:** so guess wht there was some misunderstanding over the phone

and i guess they thought it was justa shared kitche?

but actually i told them room and board im sure

anyways so Helen went shopping to get stuff that id eat to figure out $

so its more expensive but we agreed

its still a good deal

 **Bella:** Is it still a good deal?

Oh sorry haha! Well I guess that's fine. How's your first day gone?

 **Jay:** its good i know this guy Leo from Beka a bit, hes redoing some courses

then i met some other ppl, one girl whos dad is super rich or smth and i think shes smart

its sorta like the new ppl who are starting fresh sorta in a group so thats me

but also prob gonna hang with ppl who started earlier n get some roadmaps

statics looks fun

hbu B?

wait u havent started yet

or have u

 **Bella:** No, tomorrow.

 **Jay:** k gotta go upstairs n chop vegetables or smth

 **Bella:** Ok bye :P

 **Jay:** talk soon

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seeing GLDN on posters around campus bolsters Otabek's mood.

The first couple days of school are boring as always. Friday marks the third day, and Friday night when Otabek plays at the club. End-of-first-week-of-school event. Sara's jumped ship early because Naomi says Otabek's spare has been filled by an exchange student. Hopefully that's not a living hell with someone who barely speaks English. From the campus population, Otabek bets it will be someone from East Asia or Africa.

Anyway, he doesn't have to worry about that tonight.

Pulling up in his car (still too cold and snowy for a bike) to the back of Livewire, getting out, heading through the familiar backdoor with his gear - it all puts a half-grin on his face, and Anya's giving him the customary hug in greeting with Georgi coming in with a couple papers for Otabek to sign. They're back together, apparently. The other producer is setting up to open; Otabek talks with him for a bit about equipment and the market he's trying to put a foot in, the city and venues, where he's played. Because of the special event, the building's getting full. The LED floor is still dark, though, the real music hasn't started. The lights above the bar scroll GLDN off and on.

The other producer's encouraging.  _I wanna hear your set, man, I'm staying around._

Otabek feels free. He needs the light, the bass, the music so he can't hear his own pulse all too loud in his ears when he's alone in the dorm. He needs the build to the drop and bodies around him. Yeah, sometimes he hangs out in the crowd when he's not playing. It's also amusing to watch intoxicated people from a distance. But some part of him wishes he could be that carefree, now.

His phone buzzes in his pocket when he leaves the producer to start up his set and the crowd makes noise. Pulling it out, there's a message from another club manager that's south of here, they need a DJ on short notice, theirs pulled out for tonight. It'll be close, but Otabek can finish here at 11:30 and go straight over. It's a popular venue as well; he takes the gig.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Otabek strides into the second gig of the night, he's buzzing on the high of crowd screams and the heavy bass he's pumped into all his tracks as of late; it's permanent enough to stay with him on the car ride over. He shakes hands with the manager of the place; led through the backstage; onto set up. The floor here is one-level with a larger dancefloor that encircles the DJ platform. There's a bar, there are tables along far walls, red lighting, pole dancers, people body-to-body and Otabek swings right into the same set he's just played. Strobes pulse white. Overload to his senses cushions him from the reality that doesn't matter right now. He settles into the groove of the music.

It's over too soon. He's done his set. The crowd's loved him, it's hot and loud and too much, perfectly too much. But, you know, he loads his gear back up into his car, and he's not satisfied. Oh, the pay is fine. But he needs to escape for just a  _bit_ longer.

All the tension inside of him - if he's gonna let it go - he knows he  _should_ finish the thought, he should run the action full out to its consequences mentally before doing anything, but he doesn't. He's in bad form, but he's in the best form of his life. He'll try his best to make nothing make sense tonight.

 _I don't drink at all,_ Otabek remembers telling JJ, but now he's at the bar and apparently it's on the house because he's, you know, the DJ, he's GLDN. He doesn't even care what it is that he's handed. There are people at all sides. Some chick is talking to him. He doesn't know her. He's finished the shot, he's offered another, he likes the burn in his mouth and the warmth in his stomach that otherwise, in different conditions, he'd hate. The track that's playing is the Tritonal remix of that Phoebe Ryan ft. Blackbear.  _I'm losing it, so what? I'm fine/ It's probably, probably, probably, probably -_ then the drop but Otabek can finish it,  _alright._ Something about forgetting. Whatever he's drinking, it's oiling his thoughts, his mind's racing ahead of his mouth and he's talking, he's talking to get the words out - some other chick, she's not the same one, he's scanning the crowd, he's making talk of his career and how it started in Kazakhstan, taken somewhat rudely as exotic by everyone's expressions -

But then his so-far-successful aberration in his own definition of normal life - usually he has a good acronym for these sorts of things - aberration of normal life - AONL - it reminds him of  _anomaly_ which is sort of fitting - is rudely interrupted.

Because in the crowd is a blonde head of hair which becomes a face as the body turns: Yuri Plisetsky.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Otabek wakes up on Saturday morning late, late at 9:03 a.m. with an unsurprising headache, he pushes himself up to get a drink of water half-clothed . . . briefly he makes sure it's the top half that's missing . . . and enters the kitchen blinking and squinting and in a foul mood only to see Yuri Plisetsky with a black tank top and sweatpants, laptop open on the table, violin case beside it, scrolling through a phone with a tiger-themed case.

Otabek digs through his murky consciousness. He was  _sort of_ expecting this. Right, he saw Yuri at the club last night. And they talked. But why is he here? Oh, right. Exchange student? Otabek finds he's automatically grabbed his phone off the nightstand. There was something about checking messages from his parents, which he's been purposefully  _not_ doing for the last few days, but now he does, and sure enough, there are blocks of text about Yuri Plisetsky going on exchange to the same university,  _how fun and perfect,_ two days ago, the information which he never saw.

"Why?" Otabek manages to grunt. He's stopped at the border where laminate becomes linoleum of the kitchen/dining space.

"Parents wanted me to do an exchange. I wanted to get out too, choices were here or Australia or Singapore. Here was last on my list but, you know, we're such good friends it would be  _great_ to send me here and also make sure you're not dicking off, be your parents' spy." Yuri, speaking in Russian, shrugs. "I don't fucking care as long as I can do what I want."

Yuri's 18. He's always been younger and always been better. He's a violinist, but can also play piano very well, and probably can also do a lot of other shit better than Otabek, like get away with stuff and still appear as the model child. Better grades in most school subjects. Like. . . well, even just that is enough.

He's taller than Otabek, not by much, an inch. He'd still be shorter than JJ. (Why does everything get compared to JJ? Otabek swears to himself he has to stop that.) Sharp green eyes. Lean, leaner than JJ - ( _he has to stop doing that!_ ) - but sort of pulls off the look. Fairer complexion. Everything he says is in a quick, striking sort of cadence. His hair's chin-length white-blonde and most of his attire seems to be black with whatever graphics or accents on it. Otabek glances at the door; black-and-white Converse kicked off at the mat.

And apparently he's not a clean-freak like JJ, because from the counters and sink it's very obvious that he's eaten breakfast.

Not like everything  _needs_ to be spotlessly clean, not like there's a vocal major staying here anymore.

"Violin and piano? Just violin?" Otabek asks, finally moving and going to push Yuri's dishes aside and get a glass of water for himself.

For awhile Yuri's just texting, no reply, but then he turns around, says, "Look, you ignore me, I write nice letters home and we'll be done in a few months."

It's like it's law already. JJ might be boisterous and loud, and overconfident whenever he's around more than just Otabek, but Yuri's this dangerous sort of cocky. Why is it dangerous? Well, it's because he's got the rights to it.

Otabek raises an eyebrow. "Can't ignore you if you're at the clubs I play." He drinks his water. His head hurts.

Yuri smirks then. "You get free drinks as a DJ? Then I'm in. I mean, fuck me right, but thought you were a good boy. Thought you didn't drink."

Otabek casts Yuri a flat look. "Have to make something good of being here," he says. In this moment, he feels a little reminiscent of when Mila was hanging on his arm, and he said something about  _trying it_ , dismissively, and had burned the thought of JJ being there to hear and know away. He's getting used to the feeling, though it's not pleasant.

Yuri's still grinning. "You know your parents try to hush it up but everyone knows you were busy getting dick first semester. Wasn't good enough for you?"

Otabek turns to leave. "I have the right to ignore that."

"Can't blame you for trying. Mila's a fucking  _bitch_ ," Yuri taunts after him. At least, it feels like a taunt, and most things phrased by Yuri Plisetsky could legally be taken as a taunt any day of the week.

But it  _is_ sort of comforting to hear the last bit of the statement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0TC1Yxh4_O0 the song. it's shit but ... oh well so am I


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hnnng

Classes begin again.

Yuri and Victor are some kind of official Power Couple now. Michele's sort of taken a front-row seat with some groupies who think their ability to speak Italian puts them 110% above anyone else who dares sing an aria. Otherwise all the people who used to hang around JJ - a lot of the class, at one time or another, he seemed to be friends with everyone - are still there, and nothing's much changed except JJ's gone. So Otabek can't help but overhear talk of this. Everyone's got the general story right, that he's lost the scholarship. Several people ask Otabek what he's doing now. Otabek says they broke up, if it's someone he sort of knows asking, or if they ask that specific question, or shrugs, if it's no one he knows.

Maybe he's getting colder. Maybe he doesn't mind. Maybe it's a tactic that will hopefully start from the outside and freeze the part of him that still desperately, well, now,  _misses_ -

\- But he ended that.

Now Otabek realizes that although he knows quite a few people at face-value: Chris, Sara, Yuuri, others . . . they're not quite close enough that he'd sit there. That he'd hang out with them. Frankly he doesn't want to. So where to sit?

But Yuri makes that easy. Otabek sits down and Yuri sprawls beside him. Yuri seems to be always  _on,_ that much Otabek's noticed. He's got his attention rapid-fire like an arrow. Texting, writing down notes (though he doesn't do it that often, not while Otabek's marking multiple paragraphs), scrolling on his computer, messaging people via Facebook, online shopping - he does it all, and he does it with this air and motions that flick and finish a task and go straight to the next thing.

Yuri introduces himself to others; well, actually, others introduce themselves to him. Weirdly enough, it's almost like Otabek's sat beside  _him_ and not the other way around.

He'll make remarks or ask short questions of Otabek in Russian from time to time. His remarks are nothing that should be understood by the people they're about, but they get a bare smirk from Otabek.

Yuri's schedule as a violinist isn't so completely different, but they don't have every class together, and Otabek figures out his roommate's taking a 6th piano performance course. But when it's just them around, they barely talk except to get information from each other. Yuri's always got his phone in hand, usually while he's on his computer, that is, when he's around the dorm.

So Otabek's forgot all his big talk about free drinks and clubbing together as he's lugging his stuff into his car and slides in to head to Livewire, second week of classes, when who should open the passenger and sit down beside him?

"This is the kind of fucking car you drive?" Yuri says as Otabek pulls out of the underground lot he pays (through the nose) for.

"Get out then," Otabek says smoothly. They sit waiting for the door to scroll up to let them out onto the ramp.

"How about a Mercedes? S-Class coupe. Next week," Yuri just continues.

"Black," Otabek demands.

"What am I, your fucking personal shopper?"

When they pull into his usual back-door spot Otabek pops the trunk and gets out. Yuri waits for him to grab all his stuff. Otabek muscles his equipment out and balances the Maschine carefully. No way he's asking Yuri to carry anything.

Yuri leads the way in, banging the door open.

Otabek pretty much knows that Yuri's been out to clubs etcetera frequently, from the way he leaves to the hour he comes back to the classes he skips, so this is no new experience for him. At least it's expanded his social circle, at least Yuri actually goes out with friends, or followers, this early in the semester. It seems to be a mix of people Otabek knows, that used to be in JJ's group, that neither Otabek nor JJ even hung out with, and some people Otabek's never seen before. Anyways, they seem to like him. Girls always like a boy with a bad mouth, right? Not always, but this one's got skill and some force of charisma.

When Otabek moves onto the stage to set up, Leo's already there. Leo and Yuri meet each other briefly and then Yuri's gone into the crowd. As usual, Leo packs up and then it's Otabek's turn.

Name in lights, the music pulses, his new set, the lightshow behind him. All over too soon.

After Otabek plays his set he returns to the back. Anya's there. No Georgi; must have broke up again.

"New sound, I like it," she comments to him. Otabek gives her a nod, that's it. He finds he's in a dour, dark sort of mood as of late. Not like it doesn't fit him. (Fit the new him.)

Yuri strides in. His red leather jacket's shrugged half off. He wears expensive black skinny jeans and black shoes with metal studs. The blonde hair offsets it, makes it look well-put-together instead of half-prep-half-goth.

"Now you get us drinks," Yuri says to Otabek. Anya turns.

"Who's your friend? He looks hardly old enough to be here."

Yuri gives Anya a  _who-do-you-think-you-are_ look and lifts his chin at Otabek. "Come on."

 _I don't drink,_ Otabek's past self thinks in the back of his mind.

He follows Yuri.

Start fresh. Reinvent.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **Jay:** so like i do the cleaning of the main level floors right every Friday night

 **Bella:** Right.

 **Jay:** so Helen comes home Sat and says all passively, o you didnt clean the floors yet DID YOU?

read: they still suck

truth is her kids are messy as hell

and if they get home thats the end of any clean surface

so i was like yes i did i even double mopped it some places

cause there was jam on the floor or smth i like to think it was jam

and she was just like... oh i couldnt tell

 **Bella:** Does she have a problem?

 **Jay:** idk man

 **Bella:** That's just weird.

So how's your first week been? Different from music?

 **Jay:**  u knew it. i mean def easier but still lots of studying. i got calc, statics, chem, linear, n circuits

 **Bella:** OK well I don't really know what some of those are :P

 **Jay:** my fav is statics so far. u would like chem

 **Bella:** How do you know?

 **Jay:** profs an ass and u know that asshole profs alwasy like u for some reason

 **Bella:** Can't help it J :P

Hey, still missing Otabek? Over him yet? Enough to function?

 **Jay:** B u know its tough :/

 **Bella:** Of course it is.

 **Jay:** hes being an dumbass from what i hear from Leo like clubbing with his new roommate, theyre friends from kazakhstan

 **Bella:** Sounds typical

 **Jay:** it sounds basic but he DJS hes not just clubbing

but i hear hes doin that too

its not him tho

i know thats not him

 **Bella:** Shhhhhhhhhhh :P

 **Jay:** hey ur the one who asked

anyways i decided i dont need him

 **Bella:** Right?

 **Jay:** hell probably go back to Kazakhstan. ill live my life. i dont see him around anyway barely

 **Bella:** You go, JJ

 **Jay:** lmao!

i say this haha

ye ill just ... ill just do it. ill just do this semester and itll be fine

u know what im still gonna try and stay in the year end concert

 **Bella:** Yeah you should!

 **Jay:** well its dumb everyone has to re-audition and some ppl cant

but ill try

ill do it without him ill ask the japanese yuri to play for me

i dont need him

 **Bella:** Like I said, right?

 **Jay:**  sigh

already a statics assignment

 **Bella:** Go do it.

 **Jay:** supper first. hey like i complain a lot about the lagranges to u but Helen is really nice sometimes. she asked me on friday what she could cook for me cause she was gona be out a lot. that was really nice

 **Bella:** That's good

 **Jay:** no period. ur not convinced

but she was . super thoughtful. still not as mom as ur being

wish u were here. visit me or smth

 **Bella:** I really want to but school for me, you know!

 **Jay:** oh ye hows that goin

 **Bella:** Oh my god, so I had this 15-minute overlap to get all my courses in.

 _Load more messages_ (...)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Next week, Yuri drives. As promised, a black matte finish Mercedes S-Class coupe. Rental or lease. Still. Expensive. Otabek knows this, Yuri's family is very well-off. He would hate being here, Otabek suspects, if not for the freedom it affords him. That gift can't be so easily bought.

They're over the limit by 35 on McHaves Trail. Yuri's enjoying himself. His long fingers - violinist fingers, pianist fingers, slighter than Jean's - curl around the wheel, but one hand usually. He doesn't seem to be too fond of the regular two-handed control.

Otabek feels dared to enjoy it as well. Normally Otabek doesn't like things outside the rules, things just for fun, you have to prove to him it's useful or needed - but he reminds himself, this is his chance at freedom. Break all habits, break all ties.

So he rolls his window down all the way and lets the wind whip in.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Otabek has gone through the days finding himself tuning up, almost. Getting tighter, getting more accurate. The sharp influence of his, well, roommate isn't the best descriptor, but it's what he's got.

It helps that he's used to university life now. It doesn't take long to get in the rhythm. And he hates himself a bit for saying it - and then tells himself he shouldn't, but feels so just the same - that all the time he'd spend with JJ, eating together and playing stupid songs together and hanging out and just taking it slow, walking across campus together - it's been shuffled and re-dealt into efficient other activities. It's not a bad thing.

Some of the time goes to sleeping in after a hangover. Last Saturday he had a small one. He had one or two drinks. Not being used to it. And then this Saturday his head's killing him.

But there's something about the blur and the freedom growing out of the after-set and warmth of drinking and moving and talking among the crowd he's played to: the popularity he's been missing out on. Something about how his VRBOPS dissolves in alcohol that ghosts close to the shadow of . . . the shadow of some other feeling that's mostly forgotten.

And Yuri seems to legitimize the experience, if nothing else. Yuri's facilitated a lot of  _the new Otabek._ For example, late nights and early mornings at Livewire. And then, the new crowd of friends . . . more like acquaintances . . . that's slowly absorbed him into a circle of conversations and Facebook friending.

"So you don't tell anyone you're GLDN because . . . " Yuri says as Otabek slodges into the kitchen, sloppily making for a glass of water. He has to push aside plates and plastics and a half bag of ketchup chips to get to something that looks half clean. The counters are no better.

Otabek motions to the sink area and both of them. "We clean this today," he says, and gulps down tap water.

Yuri's at the table scoring in half-notated staff paper with alacrity. Harmony. He's got a loose black tank on and a chain necklace that somehow successfully navigates the fine line between  _wannabe-rapper_ and  _a-little-too-feminine_.

" . . . You're a fucking idiot. If I was a producer like you, I'd do so much with that."

Otabek gives him a solemn shrug. He doesn't need that in his life. Really, he doesn't.

"Also, Wednesday night we go to this place in the southwest. They'll take an hour set."

Otabek looks back at Yuri from where he's getting toast out.

"What?" Otabek says.

"9 pm we leave," Yuri says. That's all he'll say.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 **Bella:** Hey how's your week going?

 **Jay:** its good, just getting used to stuff

i have friends u should be happy

this leo guy i sort of know from otabek but i dont rly like him

and maybe 12 ppl i know their name s now

we hang out to do assignments in G lounge so there

and before u ask MOM yes im taking my meds

 **Bella:** Well I wasn't going to ask. Not yet anyways. Hey, I might pop by your parents next time they FaceTime you!

 **Jay:**  good i asked them yesterday where u were

still lots of snow

 **Bella:** You bet. We've been doing sledding with the kids at work.

 **Jay:** i dont know how u do it working during school

 **Bella:** Shhhh. I only have 4 courses. And you're volunteering!

 **Jay:** tru tru

i forgot to lock the door yesterday

but ppl were home so it was fine i thought

but Helen got upset

so try not to do that

if i type this ill remember

ill take a mental picture whenever i lock the door

 **Bella:** Or just wiggle the doorknob :P

 **Jay:** that too

i took Thalia to the uni this weekend. we couldnt get in the nice room with all the plants

it was locked o well

then i bought her a gumball

then she gave me a lecture on 0 - 1 = 100

 **Bella:** Well that's very nice of you. Free babysitting

 **Jay:** oh B u flatter me every chance u get

 **Bella:** I'm just joining you :P

 **Jay:** cmon Bella i dont talk myself up that much

oh kk told everyone i could beat them all at this integral the couldnt do

but i could so

also said i could play piano better than this dude

said i was gonna sing in the year end concert

maybe shouldnt have said that

also said i could run for se president and win

also said i could get into biomed no essay

also said only takes me Camme to the Hollow walking under 5 min

hey but engg kids talk themselves up real big i have competition

gotta step up my game

 **Bella:** I miss you J you know.

 **Jay:** yeah me too

 **Bella:** Living your life?

 **Jay:** not like i dont think about him, B

not at all

 **Bella:** You sound sane, though, so keep doing whatever you're doing.

 **Jay:** hows life on your end?

 _Load more messages_ (...)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yuri's got a deeper smirk on his face than usual as they arrive at the place on 20th avenue. It's about the same size as Livewire.

Otabek follows Yuri in the building. Yuri signed him up for this.

(Something about this reminds him of when he and Mila were still an item. She became his manager. She'd tell him what events she wanted him playing him at. She'd tell him which ones she wouldn't go to. Which meant Otabek couldn't play.)

But Otabek's not gonna let that bad taste in his mouth ruin the evening. Rolling his shoulders back, feeling the leather stretch and shift - he's still been making time to go to the gym, even out of spite when he's got a hangover now - to his surprise some staff come and help him with his stuff. Then he's meeting his employer, shaking hands. The generic playlist already thrums the floor under his feet as they show him out from backstage.

As usual Otabek sets up - plenty of room for his boards, there are stacked pairs of sleek white-cased lights at either corner. He's not too much separated from the dancefloor. There's a screen behind him that flashes with pixels, blazes his stagename when he drops the first mix, vocals by SKOTT, a collab with a producer from the States. Multicolored lights pulse from different directions. Yesterday he got an email from a relatively small studio wanting to sign him for an EP. He turned them down. He'll do it himself or go bigger than that.

He gets into his zone, doing the work needed to escape just for a while. The new place, though, the new surroundings, put some pressure to achieve, so he feels obliged to sink into the beat and nod his head a little more pronounced than usual.

Into the crowd he looks, searches for Yuri at the end of something he should retire off his list, or change it up. He bought a new vst that would go. It's analog-ish. Yeah, try that later -

\- He finds Yuri, but before he finds Yuri he finds that Korean kid. What's his name? And then other faces. Other bodies. Some around Yuri. There's people he recognizes here. A lot. Chris is there, and . . . well, of course this is Yuri's fault. There's Sara, hanging with Naomi. She's not even music faculty.

Eventually they're there at the limits of the barrier of his stage area. Sara, and some others he forgets their names. They're dancing and laughing, some holding phones or cups, light glancing off everyone in quick color-changing succession. Sara shouts something at him. Some other people do. He doesn't hear, of course. But they're having a good time.

When he's done his set and he joins the mayhem of bodies and colors and light - unsure of this, but riding a high and thinking maybe outing himself as GLDN isn't such a bad idea - Yuri's there and the crowd of people he knows is there. The feedback's as he expected.

_You didn't tell us! That's so fucking cool! Sick mix! You're really good! Oh my god I heard about GLDN! Your posters have been over the uni!_

Someone hands him a drink. He takes it. He talks. He grins. Otabek  _can_ be a charmer, maybe, if he wants to, some dark shade of charmer, play that type. The new Otabek, anyways. The one who's not head-over-heels for a set of deep, royal blue eyes, the stare a-good-few-inches-taller-than-him (or thinks he isn't, or has tried valiantly to forget). He's his own brand now. He's moving with the crowd. Man, he might have to pay for it later, but he's got time to spend.

At a few points he turns down advances and accepts more drinks.

At something a.m. he's got to go. Not like he's keeping track of time, but the signal is that most, if not all, of the people he knows have left. He finds Yuri. Otabek's a little drunk. But a-little-drunk Otabek can still function quite well. There's not much change from drinks 1-5 except the intensity of the headaches and nausea the next day. But that's the next day.

They head for backstage. All the equipment packed up. Outside into the dark cool night air. A chinook's gone through. Snow's melted a bit so the pavement shows through in odd ovals here and there. No doubt it'll be back tomorrow. Today? Ah, doesn't matter.

There's a bright light in his eyes. Yuri's taking a selfie of them. The camera light's on only briefly and then they're only illuminated by the Mercedes' running lights and the sign scrolling around the building as Yuri sits on the hood and thumbs move over his phone screen.

"It's freezing cold," Otabek points out, trying to see what Yuri's posting. "Don't post that," he says. "No," he says. After talking (shouting) more than normal for that extended period . . . well, his thoughts are clear to him, but he can't really get them out properly.

Yuri doesn't listen and Otabek lunges for his phone. They sort of awkwardly collide on the car hood and Yuri pushes Otabek off him.

"Don't," Otabek reiterates, seeing Snapchat, swiping at the phone.

Yuri swings it out of reach. "What, who's gonna fucking care?" He's got a grin bright to match his green eyes.

Otabek frowns, stands back up, and collects himself for a moment.

"Otabek Altin," Yuri says in a schooling tone as he stands to look Otabek in the eye - just a touch downwards, "the  _fuck_ are you afraid of."

 _Not being OK without -_ but no, he'll say what's relevant in the moment.

"My parents," Otabek says. He can feel the wall of the building close behind him. The Mercedes' lights halo Yuri's blonde head, messy after the night. "Need 'em though."

"Is your brain not fucking on? We could share the same fucking bed and they wouldn't bat a fucking eyelash," Yuri laughs sharply. "They won't see anything they don't want to. Because it's me. You know what that would mean about my family if they saw that? Your family won't do that."

Otabek blinks. He's cold. He realizes what Yuri means. He exhales and his breath mists clearly in the Mercedes' lights.

"Good as blind," Otabek says. It's true. The Altins would  _not_ do a  _thing_ to sever their ties with the influential Plisetskys. And the best way to do that would be to insinuate their son was -

"Whereas your ex, fucking ABC or whatever, they don't give a damn about him." Yuri's lips curl up. Something that comes across as preying, like a cat. "And you don't either. Just like, you know, you're  _so fucking over Mila,_ right?"

Otabek flinches. "And you too," he says pointedly.

"Two things we share. Piano and that  _bitch,_ hm? She's good at screwing. Screwing you. Screwing you over. Makes you do shit, right?"

"You're drunk."

"Not that much." Yuri wipes his face with the back of a sleeve. The Mercedes still idles. "Did you and Mila fuck when you came back for the banquet?"

"None of your business."

"Gotta wonder if you just broke up with your man to be a good kid. Look at you. Such a fucking  _model child._ "

Otabek lunges and grabs the keys from Yuri's hand in a fistful.

They roll out and somehow Otabek navigates them back onto McHaves Trail. He shouldn't be driving, but he  _can._ The streetlights whip by a little to fast, leaving too-long light trails. But they're alive, right?

"And you fell out with Mila because?" Otabek says as he focuses to keep his foot moderate enough on the gas. It's the alcohol speaking.

"I decided enough was fucking enough. I gave her back what she was dishing out. Got on her level. Didn't like that, the bitch. Went crawling back. Told on me. That's why I'm here. Can't let me in the Academy now, can they? I deserve it, though! I fucking  _deserve_ it!" Yuri puts his head out the window. "Fuck her!" he screams, his words torn away by the wind.

"Fuck her," Otabek says like some kind of liturgy.

An interim of the thrum of the engine and the pavement rolling friction against tires. It's so tempting to floor the pedal and see the car take off.

"She read my phone. She read yours?" Yuri says. He's leaning back. His tone's aged and jaded of a sudden.

"Messages . . . her approval or nothing," Otabek agrees.

"Mmmmm," Yuri says. "Blames you?"

"Makes you do whatever she wants?"

"Hits you?"

"Won't let you hit back?"

"Spends your money when she has her own?"

"Doesn't let you go places?"

"Takes you places?"

"Takes all your time?"

"Definition of bitch."

"Hot as fuck."

Yuri doesn't continue the thread.

They get back to the garage. Yuri takes one of Otabek's speakers.

"Careful," is all Otabek manages as they both half-bump and drag the equipment back to the dorm.

"You'll be such a fucking hit now," Yuri says to summarize the evening when they're back inside, in the warmth.

Otabek's head is starting swim and telling him to sleep. He doesn't like all this talk of Mila. He doesn't like that Yuri asked about JJ and him. He doesn't like that Yuri's here. Not really.

"We did," Otabek says. Maybe he's not aware he's said it. He's still got his jacket on. Yuri's hung his up, kicking off shoes. The kitchen's still in need of a clean.

"What," Yuri says shortly.

"Mila and I," Otabek clarifies. "Banquet night."

He doesn't know why he's saying this. Again. Early hour of the morning, too. Maybe he's damned to confess it over and over again, starting with the worst people to confess it to and working down through that ranking.

"Why? Why'd you come back to her?" Yuri digs.

". . . You know," Otabek says. Really that's all he wanted to say. He's done. The topic stirs up all his well-laid plans and makes him feel more guilt than he'd like, when there's nothing to be done about said guilt. Is there?

Yuri smirks. "Yeah I do. Cause you get fucking addicted. To obeying her. You  _obey_ her."

The statement hangs like a plum bob heavy on a thin string. It's not exactly a confession. More like the opening line of a codex.

Otabek inhales. He's about to walk away. He'll walk away right now.

"I know she makes you let her," Yuri says and lunges into Otabek, pins them flush against the wall, he kisses Otabek but drags it off to bite hard and deep into his bottom lip. Otabek makes a muffled low sound as pain blooms there. Yuri's hands go under Otabek's shirt and wrap around. Digs his fingers in and scrapes skin as Otabek feels Yuri press them together. "I know you don't get it if she doesn't feel like it. You do what she fucking wants, right?"

Yuri's green eyes are a command. He suddenly pulls off Otabek, steps back. Otabek just gives the hintest of sways forward, like he wants their bodies together again.

Blood gracefully drips off the curve of his bottom lip and splotches to the floor. Otabek's gaze flicks down at it, then back up at Yuri.

Fuck it, Otabek  _needs_ to hurt.

"Yeah," he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for this fic   
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFtCDaG4LZelZ1zYi-uTrIroK_0pnlV7-


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> VERY IMPORTANT  
> ok so thanks to ElephantofAfrica I have decided to incorporate some JJ POV  
> These are easily distinguishable by handy dandy lines of 'jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj'  
> Returning to normal non-JJ pov as always marked by xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx  
> thank u this has been a PSA

Otabek wakes up Saturday morning with what seems to be the new normal for Saturday mornings: headache, gut not feeling too well.

He can't, and doesn't really want to, reconcile these choices he makes with possible motives behind them. The most he can do is note that it's odd, definitely odd, that he should know he'll feel like this the next day and drink too much anyways. It's definitely odd that feeling like this is almost right, and not just as a mere physical consequence.

But there's something extra.

As he pushes himself up to sitting and the covers slide off, shutting his eyes tight in a silent wince as his head complains, he feels the scratches down his back stretch in pain and then the bruised half-bloody marks marring his shoulders and base of his neck.

Yuri's not here, in bed. But he was, there's the evidence.

There's a surging instinct to open his laptop or close his eyes, whichever, find something in archives to jerk off to - because he's not satisfied. Hell, he didn't come at all, Mila -  _Yuri -_ didn't let him, that much he remembers. He wrinkles his face. He needs a shower, badly. Maybe more badly than he needs to jerk off. The more he considers it, the more he grows a foul disinterest in doing so, at this time in this situation.

There's a heavy fog around his senses that all haunt him of Mila. This is what he asked for, right? Well, not her in particular. Maybe he just wanted a reminder. Maybe he knows he's trying to forget and he can't let himself, because . . . he should pay, at least, he owes something for the things he's done . . . the thought trails into a coil, heavy in his gut.

Somehow he gets up, aching. It's arms and chest day. He'll push through. He'll take the hurt.

" _Oh, you like this. You fucking_ like  _this. You need it,"_ Otabek remembers Yuri's tone, some sadistic sort of surprise turning to declaration.

Otabek shuts the bathroom door and slaps the light and fan on, catches sight of himself in the mirror. No, he's not who he used to be, even if he's only changing by fractions.

The 4-out-of-6 bulbs that actually work in the bathroom are relatively dim, but still too bright for Otabek's eyes and headache. Squinting, he fumbles for the shower and wrenches on the water, hoping for a blazing hot temperature to show itself in less than 12 minutes. Why bother looking at the light, forcing himself to open his eyes, when the brilliance he's left behind casts his own shadow before him. It'll take a certain kind of strength to turn from dawn to dusk, and that's what's necessary.

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On February 21, JJ's SSRI medication has run out. Mostly because he's been upping the dosage. The orange child-safety-top bottle's empty.

He's rubbing his eyes; 6:42 a.m.; brushing his teeth in the bathroom that's mostly his. Rinses and spits, scrubs a hand back through his hair. He got it fresh cut again before classes started, and it's still holding its shape. For a few seconds he stands there looking at his reflection. He runs a hand along his chin, which doesn't look like it needs a shave yet. He leans in as if to examine the dark circles beginning under his eyes, but then shakes himself as if shedding some half-formed fear.

In one hand he picks up the pill container.

"Gotta fill you," he says, apparently to the container. But he makes a face and puts it back down, slaps off the lights and exits the washroom.

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 **Jay:** so get this u kno their kitchen tap was dripping? since i got there. and u have to push it reall hard to stop it

 **Bella:** Mm hm, go on

 **Jay:** they were at church and i was just making food. and the handle just snapped off when i was pushin it shut

 **Bella:** What did they say?

 **Jay:** well i told them sort of that it had finally broken right because it wasnt working

but they were like, oh u just used too much force

so iwas like fine what do you want me to do about it

Helen told me she can 'read ppl' or whatever but i can too she wasnt happy

anyways they seem ok now. theyre going to a hockey game tonight.

 **Bella:** OK, well, that's a weird way of reacting.

 **Jay:** ye we'll see what happens

anyways to stay int he year end concert i got to audition right

but they wont let me

 **Bella:** What?!

 **Jay:** cause im not music faculty

it sucks

a lot

ive been trying to keep up the songs right

even, im stupid but. learning another one

 **Bella:** Go to someone and talk to them about it.

 **Jay:** like to let me in?

 **Bella:** Anyone who knows your track record?

 **Jay:** well i sort of know whos in charge of the concert

i guess i could ask

idk im just stressed i dont have the time

 **Bella:** No excuses, J. Do it

 **Jay:** i could try i guess

 **Bella:** Try. Remember all your talk? You were going to do it and show Otabek you don't need him.

 **Jay:** ye man that was talk

u knew that

 **Bella:** Doesn't have to be!

 **Jay:** tru kk ill try emailing or calling her or smth

she was Beka's piano teacher

u never heard him play right? hes really good

like not just technical good. he plays everything well. u know? so focused and into it

i still miss him

 **Bella:** I know. But hey, you're doing fine without him.

 **Jay:** wanna know smth B well im not sleeping very well

im just stressed right

not about university

its just i never know what Helens gonna be like

whenever i do smth in a common area im like

? am i getting shit for this later or no

 **Bella:** Have you ever thought about looking for another place?

 **Jay:** well i cant if i wanted to, dont have a vehicle to move my stuff

nah i can deal

hbu? hows life

_Load more messages (...)_

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Otabek unfolds his quiz paper from theory II: Harmony. 95.5%. He's got this. He puts it in the zippered plastic folder in his binder with his first quiz (94%).

He doesn't need to lean over and see Yuri's as the violinist in question slides back into his seat (at the back of the classroom, they're on the highest terrace) and spins himself around once before dismissively stuffing his own paper into the text/workbook. Otabek knows it's as good as a hundred as well.

"How are you so OP," says the person beside him, who's peered over Otabek's shoulder to see his score. Otabek can't quite remember his name. Starts with a P. Penjam? Pejman? See, he's got these people who gravitate towards him now, who want to talk to him and engage. Because they know he's GLDN.

And why shouldn't they?

When the prof closes down class, it's lunch time. Instead of standing and looking as groups head out, Otabek and Yuri stand and other people follow them out. It's a strange sensation, to Otabek.

The scratches on his back safely hidden by his black jacket, asymmetrical zip, pull with an almost itchy pain as he walks; the double doors pushed open raucously, and Otabek and Yuri talk in turn with the crowd, not with each other, but they're with each other nonetheless.

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JJ has a meeting to plead his case for the concert tomorrow, in Lilia Baranovskaya's office during her hours. Today he had lunch and did the statics assignment with the usual engg group in the lounge. Later everyone's going to the Hollow (in a couple hours) but it's not in his budget, he went on the weekend and made a good impression with his piano skills. He wishes he still had time to practice! He wishes he could go out again.

But it's just as well. He has to figure out what he's gonna say to Baranovskaya. What's he gonna say? Oh, what's he gonna say? It's gotta be good!

"Dr. Baranovskaya, hello, um, not sure you remember me . . . no, no, no, gotta be more assertive."

He's pacing in his room on Tuesday afternoon. Got home early at 3:30 so he's not got to go up and help Helen yet. Will check the clock too frequently though, until it is time.

"Dr. Baranovskaya! Good afternoon or whatever . . . I was in the faculty last semester . . . I auditioned for a solo in the year-end concert and I want to try and - try and keep that . . . no, no, uhhh, I want to try again for the . . . what's the date again . . ."

He bends down to pick up his main 3-subject notebook and shakes a few folded sheets loose; finds the one of the year-end concert poster.

"Yeah, so . . . " he keeps pacing. "I know I'm not in the faculty anymore, so technically not allowed, but I, uh, think I deserve a shot . . ."

Does he? He nods to himself. Yup, of course he does. No question about it. He's confident he does. Then why's his head buzzing with all this need to rehearse and why's there this knot in his stomach, pre-emptive, what if she  _doesn't_ hear his case and what if it  _doesn't_ work and then what if he auditions and  _doesn't get in -_

He flops down on the bed and then curls over. Reflexively he turns on his phone and taps through Snapchat stories. He can ignore this inner cascade of worrying consequences, maybe, if he looks at enough boring videos of people driving and pictures of pets and SOs and girls holding Starbucks together and someone's relative's birthday party.

"Meds," he says to himself. "Get them."

Otherwise he knows what happens. Every time he says he can deal with it! And every time he can't really. He knows what happens. Mood swings, the sort that make him laugh too loudly and then break down too soon. Those suck. Yeah, they really suck! And they'll melt into the usual state of hyperawareness of how he's probably screwing everything up or going to, of worry and everything buzzing inside him and endless  _oh no_ s,  _oh no oh no oh no!_ He doesn't want that. He doesn't want a panic attack without Beka there beside him. And the meds prevent that from happening. Even if they  _do_ make him a little safer than his usual style, cut his personality down a couple inches, and maybe also mess with his writing ability. (He's learned to read his own notes with spelling and words all wrong.)

So he should get his meds! And of course if he waits too long, once he goes back on there's a week of restlessness and even  _more_ anxiety and more not sleeping. There's another reason in favor of.

But he's got school. He's got to concentrate on that! And not making Helen upset. And not thinking about Beka. And not missing Beka. And not wishing although he has friends, as always, he's still too  _alone_ compared to before . . .

He knows he'll start feeling it pretty soon. No pills, no pain, no gain. Something like that? God, he's going to be in trouble. No, he's not! He'll deal. He's gotta. He's supposed to be fine without Beka. Right?

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He's sitting in the little lounge area up the stairs. Baranovskaya's office is down the hall. Door 135. He focuses on those numbers.  _135, 135, 135._ There are some people around but it's still 3:44 and there's six minutes till the walkways will fill up.

His hands are clenched tight to try and dampen the way his shoulders tremble.

 _What if it doesn't work, what if he doesn't get in, what if he auditions and doesn't make it -_ he should just book it out of here right now! He could've told his engg buddies but he didn't want them here. Did he know it was going to be bad? He shouldn't be this nervous.  _Smile._ Just ask her. Just ask! It's simple!

 **Jay:** im waiting outside

 **Bella:** Let me know how it goes.

He'll be fine! No, it'll be a disaster!

The back-and-forth worries something in his stomach. No! He won't have it. He's not gonna get that worked up over this. Now his statics test that's coming - he  _should_ be worked about that. But focus on that instead? Not gonna happen right now.

_Room 135. 135, 135, 135._

Reminds him of 1350. That's when Circuits lets out on MWF. MTWRF: They call Thursday 'R'. Why'd they call it 'R'? Sure, don't call it 'T' cause then it's confused with Tuesday. But maybe 'H'. Why not 'H'? That's the next letter anyway!

He'll be fine. He'll be fine! He's legit. He can sing. He deserves it.

He checks the time on his phone. He checks again. He opens an app and closes it. Finally students exit classrooms and go up and down the stairs. Noise level increases. He feels like he can breathe  _in through his nose out through his mouth_ without being too much of a disturbance.  _Did he lock the door this morning?!_ his brain cuts in and freezes him for a second but then, yes,  _yes he did,_ he remembers, he turned the handle to make sure. But did he turn it all the way? Of course. He's being foolish!

Should he be early? would that be rude? He checks the time on his phone.

_135, 135, 135._

Somehow he holds it together and ends up in Lilia Baranovskaya's office to plead his case.

Doesn't mean he doesn't wish he didn't have someone with him. Standing outside. Holding him up so he doesn't have to struggle to keep himself from falling down.

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_You need help, man._

Isn't that what JJ told him?

Otabek's considering making a new rule: Never think about JJ. He only detains himself from doing so because he knows it will be impossible to follow.

It's 12 a.m. or something on a weeknight, but he went out anyways because Yuri found a gig. Yuri said they were going and Otabek agreed. Can't disappoint his new fans. Another label wanted to sign him, but still not big enough for Otabek to consent. He dropped an original and there were people he knew there clamoring to hang and dance and drink around him, some people had the nerve to ask or try to join him behind his setup. Won't do. He's above that.

Otabek knows he's stronger than Yuri. It's pretty obvious. ( _He knows he's stronger than Mila, it's pretty obvious._ ) The alcohol in his veins and brain makes him try something, once Otabek's sat down on the low table in the living room area and Yuri's on top of him, wordlessly clawing fists into his white T-shirt under his leather jacket as he grinds them together. Otabek pushes back up against him and grabs  _him_ by his shirt, he throws them onto the couch which jolts to a skewed position as their weights impact and Otabek hovers, like he's unsure what to do next now that he's got the advantage. Like all the possible choices are wrong.

They probably are.

But then he remembers the bite left in his lower lip that's been reopened two times yet and goes in to repay.

Yuri turns his head aside, evading. He jams an elbow up on Otabek's weakening hold and knocks him back, forearm pressing hard against Otabek's throat, flattening them half-sideways.

"Don't know the fucking rules yet," Yuri puffs out in a breath, words filtering loose through his teeth. "Do you?"

Otabek wants to push Yuri off his throat but he knows if he holds still, let the spots appear in front of his vision, just a little too long -

\- the pressure will come off. There it does. He sucks in a breath. Yuri's leaning back, satisfied.

The lean, talented, fucking  _talented_ blonde who's got everything going for him in life, including Otabek Altin right now, stands up.

He tells him to get ready. Otabek's room. It's always Otabek's room. He barely knows what Yuri's room is like; the door's always shut.

So Otabek gets ready.

And Yuri fucks him up, he tears into him, he makes him bruise and bleed, and Otabek only resists inasmuch as it'll push Yuri further onto him. That's how it's been. Yuri finds some kind of pleasure in it too, Otabek can feel, they're both half-gone and losing rhythm. Yuri doesn't let him come, and doesn't let him come, and  _doesn't fucking let him come and_ then Otabek (not that he'll remember any of this clearly in the morning) loses it, when he's denied a third time by Yuri's hand tightening around the base of his cock, he grabs Yuri but Yuri's twisting himself away and they're struggling for moments and Otabek's lips part, makes for any bit of Yuri's bare and pale skin to leave a return mark -

\- but he doesn't get it. Otabek might be stronger, but Yuri knows the game and he's faster and sharper. Soon Otabek's head is lancing back, hits the bed, head forced to stretch to one side by fingers in his hair and against his scalp, and there's pain starting at the base of his neck and then spotting down his bare chest, Yuri bites and sucks. Otabek's still half hard. He  _needs_ to come. But Yuri - but Mila - drunk, there's still a difference, but he can forego it - won't let him and it  _hurts_ -

One stroke from Yuri, thumb pressing and lingering for a second, Otabek's already there and straining and finally he's - no -  _again_ , Yuri's ringed his fingers around his cock and Otabek's half-crazed, pushing himself up, where Yuri's staring at him with green eyes and hair in tangles:

"Why'd you break up with your boy?" Yuri says.

Otabek's mind's exploding with pure need. He's gotta answer the question. Maybe that'll unlock his reward.

"Mila," he sputters. "Fuck," he adds, reaching to remove Yuri's disabling grip, as he's straddling Otabek's legs, but Yuri's movements seemed to have been slicked by too many drinks, instead of slowed, and he pushes himself forward on top of Otabek, hands reaching to pin Otabek's wrists to the bed:  _oh fuck,_ Otabek needs another touch now, just one touch and now he'll come - he arches up to beg for contact with Yuri but Yuri's mouth is on his, teeth ripping at the by-now old wound on his lip. Rules reminder. Otabek half-groans, half-yells in pain as Yuri pulls away.

"Makes you what?" Yuri's speaking Kazakh.

"... a cheater," Otabek joins the language. It's an admission. Good thing he's drunk and been on the edge of losing it too many times tonight or it might sound too real in his ears. The bare space Yuri keeps between them is too thick. He needs it gone but.

"Right, fucking cheater." Finally Yuri presses down, he's still - he's still got his tight black jeans on while Otabek's stark naked, doesn't seem fair, but the brush of friction makes Otabek gasp - it's still not enough, again,  _he needs it again_ but Yuri resumes hovering inches off him. "You could've let her flirt and that's it but you went the whole  _fucking way_ , like you have no self control, like that bitch owns you."

"Owns - fuck," Otabek's panting, he can't articulate anything and maybe that's good, he just -

"And look at you." There's a smirk in Yuri's tone. "You act like you don't give a fuck . . . but you still want him, don't you? What was his name?"

Otabek strains to close his own vocal cords, breath heavy in his ears and Yuri hot and still too far away over him, the feeling of how badly he needs to come an ugly vice.

But he won't say  _his_ name. He won't profane it, because that's what it would be, heresy, if spoken here and now. He can't.

If he  _could_ say it, well, he'd be stronger, he could say it with an ironic smirk and drag Yuri under his command, he could turn them over and take Yuri's clothes off and he'd be on top - easily (or would it be easy?) - it would prove he really  _doesn't_ give a fuck.

He won't say it.

Yuri's teeth are bared in some kind of twisted delight.

"So you know this is your place," Yuri says, harsh, not quite approval, not quite demeaning.

"No," Otabek says. Reflexively. Surprising himself. Some tiny and persistent monster of hope squashed at the back or bottom of his soul.

A moment of surprise from Yuri and then he's drawing blood down Otabek's chest, the spikes of a cuff bracelet he's still got on, making a fist and dragging rough metal along and through his chest and abdomen. Yuri's gaze trains on the bloom of scratched ruin going red like it's a river of gold, watching as he creates it; Otabek hisses sharply, cuts off a short exclamation that fades to a groan. Yuri's hand pauses between Otabek's v-cuts and fingers spread out. His eyes snap back to Otabek's face like he has been too distracted by his work.

"Yes," Otabek corrects, through his teeth; the tone slides and breaks. It's true. The new pain competes with everything else he's running high on. He doesn't know what he needs the most now.

Yuri nods in approval. "You dick a boy for a couple months. You toss that like he's fucking shit and fuck your old bitch. Then you get me to treat you like this. Oh, not complaining. But you're a  _special_ kind of  _slut_. Aren't you?"

Otabek just doesn't have words.

"You need this, don't you?"

He strangles out a  _yes._ And  _this_ doesn't mean what Yuri's not allowed him so far. No.  _This_ means: Yuri not allowing him anything so far. It means the wound dragging down his chest and spreading red to either side. No love, no affection. This is the truth he's searching for. He likes it in a way that's probably bad for him. He knows it's bad for him.

Nevertheless, finally,  _finally,_ Yuri's moved back down, there are fingers in him and sliding up and down his cock and finally he comes, senses whiteout and flatline.

He comes back to the current timeline after who knows how long. After the high fades, after the buzz retreats to his extremities, now he's got time to feel ugly and wrong and  _so_ drunk. He's alone, too. The door to his room's open. Yuri's is closed, across the hall.

Without his senses pulled to a high, Otabek's got nothing to like anymore, nothing to mask the truth.

The last thing on his mind before he falls to merciful sleep is the name he wouldn't say.

(And this is why he can't make that new rule.)

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When Otabek wakes up, something seems final, something to do with the red-purple bruising collecting all over his upper body and the cut that's crusted and scabbed over, long down his front, although it's deep enough in some places it's still only soft-closed. Something seems final when he covers it all with a shirt and then black jacket, loose grey sweats go on and the clothes are lies in themselves. Puts his sheets in a cold-wash because the dark grey's smudged and swiped with red; he has some sense of hygiene. Why would he bother with stain remover; he knows the marks aren't coming out all the way. But he does bother, dumps some in.

He and Yuri don't talk before heading out 10 minutes late to class, but there's some line of dominance or superiority more obviously strung across his roommate's face than before. A knowing.

Something's final, something's clear, it's no longer odd how pain seems to fit with this new Otabek.

_It's your brain. It's psychology. You need help, though._

Those words can't mean anything anymore. Otabek won't let them. This, he determines. It's final.

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JJ checks the time. He's bouncing on his toes outside the studio he booked for practice. Yuuri agreed to accompany him for auditions, round two. Yuuri was always a really good-natured kind of guy. You felt like you could just ask him for anything. JJ hopes he's like that too. Hell, he is, people ask him stuff all the time! Still JJ had to get some nerve up sending that text. Doesn't know if he's an outcast or just estranged, what it's like without him, have they forgotten him? They probably have. They should! He shouldn't concern them anymore. But he's going back in to prove something. And Bella seems to think it's a good idea. Yeah, it's a good idea. He'll show them.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, too many group chats going off. He ignores it and keeps bouncing on his feet.

Like, he got the yes from Baranovskaya! And she's tough! She wasn't warm about it. She's never warm. Something like - what did she say? Something like she's giving him a slot, a chance, that's it, nothing special, he's not special, no guarantees he'll get in. But he got the yes! So that's gotta count for something!

He told Bella and she was proud of him. He told his parents and they were proud of him. That's enough. Right? To try? No, he's gotta succeed. It's not enough to try. He's in this now. He can imagine it. There will be  _Otabek-and-everyone-else_  on the stage with the risers and piano and music stands for the string players and he'll show them. Not to be mean! No. Just to prove something. That he can stand alone.

He's doing OK. He needs to refill his meds. It's been . . . it's been three days.  _Fine. It's fine._ But he can feel how his mind's speeding up, not bagged down and held content anymore, awareness shaving sharper, internal dialogue printing out faster and faster, and the telltale jumpiness inside him ready and wanting to spike if prompted. Well then he won't prompt it! (It isn't  _up_ to him, though.)

He looks down the hall. There's Yuuri heading towards him. JJ warmed up at home (everyone was out of the house). Singing's not something you forget.

Of course it's a  _little_ awkward, Yuuri-who-he-hasn't-seen-in-weeks, but JJ grins and greets him and soon everything's going as planned.

As they've just finished going through Stammi the second time, JJ lights upon a thought: should he ask about Beka? Yuuri's probably expecting him to! He doesn't want to. Well, he sort of wants to. He's got one feed on Beka and that's from Leo's limited perspective. Asking about his ex. That would be normal. Right? Yeah, that would give the right impression.  _We're still on good terms._ (They're not.)

He  _should_ ask. Yeah. He will.

"Hey, how's Otabek doing?" Doesn't use  _Beka._ Doesn't want to come off that way.

Yuuri says:

"I think he's fine. Did you know he was a producer and DJ? Apparently that's the new word. I don't really talk to him much anymore, though."

"Yeah, I did. Oh yeah?" So Beka's told everyone he's GLDN now? Some heat rises in JJ's chest, some kind of almost-jealous crisis. Beka never said he wanted that kind of attention! He said he would probably never tell anyone! No, it was just JJ he'd let in on the secret! It was JJ he'd put his tracks together for and - does he still play those ones? JJ thinks not.

"He has a different crowd, I guess. Lots of people in the club scene or something. But also, some people go out just because he's playing somewhere." Yuuri shrugs. "So, are you just sticking to one audition?"

JJ  _has_ had the thought to learn something else. Something he's familiar with. Maybe that he already half-knows. He discarded the idea but now that - now that Beka's discarding him?  _He dropped you two months ago!_ JJ tells himself, but despite knowing better he's not really accepted it, he's hoped maybe - well, he doesn't know what he's hoped for. Not this news about Beka = GLDN = mass popularity ≠ Beka and JJ. He's got more proof now. That he didn't want! But, guess he needs the truth.

"I thought of doing something else. Sort of a joke. I dunno, it might be too,  _not_ a joke."

Yuuri's nonplussed. They end up practicing it.

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Yuri will practice violin in the living room of the dorm lately. Violinists are always complaining about not getting enough studio hours, so Otabek has to suffer the noise. He closes the door to his room. Doesn't help much. Not that the music isn't good. It's very good. It's excellent. Yuri hasn't told Otabek anything about what he's auditioning for, but Otabek's figured out by now that it must be a selection for the soloist assortment section and one for the Rimsky-Korsakov symphonic suite. Nice to know, but Otabek would rather some quiet, especially when technique and then repeated passages of Yuri's selections go on for more than an hour.

Auditions on Saturday. Otabek's ready as he's going to be. He's got someone else accompanying him during practice times for  _Still_ ; asking Yuuri seemed a bit untimely, although Yuuri may very well be the one who ends up accompanying him if he gets in for the final concert. And that's all he's entering, anyways:  _Still_. Samarkand still has to get up to speed, and his other personal pieces are at least on track, but he's spending too much time on other things to work on anything else. Apparently it's going to be tough to get in with  _Still_ ; they have a spot for a male-sung art song but there are a few good vocalists vying for it. This he heard from another face in the crowd.

Yuri's violin continues. Perfect practice. Irritating. Otabek would smash his violin if it came with no consequences.

Once, Otabek considers doing something about the issue. He goes into the kitchen to get a drink. Yuri continues playing double stops, scale passages in thirds, and fixes Otabek with a daring look. Otabek returns it. They stare at each other. The violin continues.

Otabek heads back to his room without saying a word.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

It's too early to feel like this! It's only 8:55 p.m., Thursday, and JJ's shut himself in his room because he thinks he might do something crazy out  _with other people,_ he shouldn't be around other people feeling like this.

(He hates feelings. They're pointless! All they do is make him feel bad! He wishes he didn't have to be so bitter towards  _feelings._ )

Earlier he picked up his gameboy that he brought along for some weird reason and thought the kids would find it funny if he pretended to talk on it like a phone, so he did, and they  _did_ think it was funny! They laughed! Well, the 9-year-old wasn't so convinced, until he took out his  _real_ phone and answered it with the other ear.

He was in on the joke too! The more he believed it the more they would like it. The more Jenay would like it. Jenay?  _Oh, no_ \- he panics, before remembering, Jenay would like him here, would like him with the kids. He loves kids. Jean-Jacques Leroy is  _great_ with children. He remembers how the director of Music Notes beamed at him and swell of pride as the kids picked up what he taught them and Adyn of the three sisters was the only one who hugged her buddy, who was JJ of course, when she was going to leave on vacation for two weeks - " _It's good when kids get excited about practicing music_ ", from a parent. That was great feedback! That was what JJ loved to do! He'd done something right!

The happy thought snaps and he's almost laughing but now he's almost crying. His head aches. He has a test tomorrow, Thursday-before-the-Friday-before-audition-Saturday-before-reading-week, a third-term test in: "Static . . . - statics, it's on statically-determinate-trusses, it's-" suddenly he's panicking because he doesn't know anything! Oh, fuck he doesn't know anything  _at all!_ He's filing through the sheets and stacks of binders and papers on the other half of the queen-size. He knows he studied but his mind's a white and empty playing field right now. Where's his statics notes? He can't pin a thought down. He can't keep the image in front of his eyes straight. Is this the meds?

He freezes. Meds. Meds! This is why! He ran out! - days ago, he didn't refill - he'll have to wait until next weekend because of his lab schedule and this test - because the bus ride is walk the 6.5 minutes to the stop and take the 124 that comes :20 after the hour but be there at :19 and, and go all the way to the second train stop (catch the soonest train) and then it's the north side of the bus loop -

\- he stands up and shakes his head, floating aimlessly to the shelf and staring at it -

\- the details don't matter, all that matters is that Google Maps says transit will take him 1 hour and 12 minutes, that's to get to Dr. Bedina's for the prescription and then he has to go get it filled and he can't ask anyone for a ride to make it doably shorter.

Of course he can't ask Helen for a ride. He still doesn't know what he's on the hook for the faucet for. Money-wise. He'll pay! Oh he'll pay! Whatever they want!  _Please_ \- he just wants a bill and then everything will be forgiven -

He's crying, frustration. He's throwing all the pillows on the bed everywhere and upsetting the duvet and sending papers flying and too soon there's nothing left to throw and he's sitting on the carpet. Then he's lying on the carpet. He might just sleep here. He might just die here! " _Yeah, we're gonna die,":_ joking with Eric and Nabeel and whoever after the lecture on - Jacobians, or something. He coughs a helpless laugh back.

He remembers the feeling of lowering his gaze, skimming it below eye contact, the counters covered with dishes and when the Lagranges left for the hockey game: " _If you want to help, you can wash the dishes,"_ Helen said, but it didn't mean  _can,_ it meant  _will,_ but of course they had a dishwasher! It was stainless steel too! God, JJ had always envied stainless-steel appliances for some reason! They were so much better than white, with those wormy grooves in them and yellowing trim. No one had loaded the dishwasher yet that day, through all the cooking and struggling to moderate the flow from the skeletal kitchen tap. So the dishes piled up.

And JJ was now supposed to do them:  _Can I load the dishwasher?_ because then he can study while it runs.

_No, don't bother using the dishwasher._

Like it's a favor? To do everything by hand? The faucet that  _he_ broke? Well did  _he_  break it? If he wasn't so careless! If he didn't - the thing had been leaking and begging for brute force from day one! - but he broke it, he was the one, opened it up to see the worn plastic washer finally failed.

As Jacob Lagrange swings his jacket on: " _And the counters are full, there's no room to leave the dishes to air-dry."_

Bang as the garage door closed.

He has to study for his test tonight because - because it cost him  _one hour and fifteen minutes,_ all the dishes and cleaning up and wiping crumbs because who knows what a speck of dirt will cost him over Helen's disatisfaction, and it didn't help a thing because the question-mark-price-tag looms over him and he's been  _trying_ to avoid Helen because when she's around, struggling with the sink:  _"This is really inconvenient-"_ \- do they take pleasure in this? In making him pay? Will he be able to fix anything? He wants to!

Because JJ, he knows, he  _knows he knows he KNOWS_ \- he's so fucking sorry please just - please just -

\- it's a small thing, it's nothing, the back of his mind itches, but it looms  _so_ big because they've  _made it_ big and he's managed to somehow disappoint 90% of the people in his life including himself and he's cracking, it doesn't take much now, does it?

He needs someone else. He needs someone else. It's sad, right? He's old enough he should be able to look after himself!

But he can't ask Helen for a ride and he's not about to ask any engg buddies or Leo because they've got their own concerns and they don't need to know about all this shit in his life, but if  _only_ he had Beka and his Harley, or Beka and his leased car, or even just Beka and a longboard or bicycle or scooter or one of those swagmaster rolly two-wheel things or Heelies which are coming back -

\- if ony he had Beka.

He's hiccuping some noise in his throat that turns halfways into a cry.

The Lagranges still haven't taken their Christmas tree down. He laughs. Then he thinks he might forget to lock the door tomorrow. The laugh shudders and stalls and he doesn't know what's happening to him. He remembers Erin earlier had taken a whopping 25 seconds to come up with arctan(1) in degrees. He remembers turning to Kyle, elbowing him, eyebrow up, they all made noise,  _fucking unit circle he's trying to draw the unit circle!_ JJ knows he's bright and clear everywhere-else-but-here. He needs a medal for that outside performance! Why, every passing hour Jean-Jacques Leroy lugs his books back and forth and complains about other faculties complaining and hangs in the crowd as One of Them - he deserves a prize!

Of course his prize will be success. He has to study but. He. Can't. No question about it! He puts his head in his hands. The idea of finding a practice question to do seems like Manjhi-the-Mountain-Man sort of level. His face is all smeared with tears and probably loose eyelashes at this point. Sobs jerk to a stop in his throat. If only he had Beka! If only! If only he didn't  _need_ Beka! Beka and the muscles in his arms and chest and his serious-set face, his determination his focus his screwed-up logic that JJ knows and/or believes is  _still_ logic, one-track dedication that JJ could never match, and his talent, how he plays piano and how he makes his own songs and walks into the club and works the crowd like he's doing something as common as pouring Cheerios into a halfways-clean bowl from the shitty dishwasher they both used last semester and his cock that's thick and beautiful as fuck and his face that's just as beautiful, and how once-upon-a-time JJ sang for him and stunned him into a deep red blush - and JJ is so far gone and so, so sad.

Bella doesn't know how much JJ feels for Otabek. But she knows she doesn't know. JJ should have walked away! He should be riding into the sunset! He should be making tracks instead of torn and afraid and  _jealous_ and sorry and sad for Otabek Altin! But here he is!

He's got hiccups and he can't really breathe too well, he's not sure whether to laugh or cry, but he's not going to be finding the  _x-and-y-components-of-the-force-in-beam-H-of-the-truss_ tonight.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The theatre backstage is full of people, noise and chatter. It quiets regularly when an audition is going on, and people fill the curtained, high-ceilinged wings to listen.

Otabek arrives a third of the way in. Auditions run most of the day. He wants to hear Yuri play. He'd want to hear anyone play if they were as good as Yuri.

He hangs around with people, not Yuri, listening to another violinist play. Otabek doesn't really know what's good playing or not, technically, not to name it. But, his ears know if it's well phrased or not.

The girl who just auditioned finishes and comes backstage. Waiting friends congratulate and console her. Yuri marches out, an almost lazily confident look on his face.

Everyone crowds into the wings. The spotlights are on as if it's a real concert. Yuri walks quickly to his place; someone's at the piano accompanying. The judges sit front-row: Yakov, Baranovskaya, the Dean and a guest.

Yurio nods, bow on string, hair bright in the spolights, violin shining.

The first two notes rip fiercely into the sliding, lilting melody. Even after the first few seconds, it's clear he's better than the previous audition.

Yuri can play piano, too, yes, but there is something fitting about  _Yuri Plisetsky, violinist_. His straight posture; chin lifted to alight on the chin rest; elbow held straight and true, angling to exacting degrees; precision of his long fingers on the neck; bow hand elegant and strong, ring finger covering the pearl dot. The vibrato, when he makes the note sing with a quickly oscillating touch petering off just in time: it gives the impression of effortlessness. And indeed, it is a little unfair. One feels a little like they didn't get dealt their full lot in life, watching this complete picture.

"He's getting it," murmurs someone confidently, as Yuri draws the chromatic, vibrant melody along, spitting fire when it should and lying seductively smooth when it should. Someone shushes that someone who dared interrupt.

When he's finished, there's a burst of clapping from the wings. Otabek folds his arms. Yuri re-enters and classmates clamour to assure him of a job well done. Otabek knows Yuri doesn't need the reassurance.

Next up, announces Emil, who's ever volunteering and happens to be moderating auditions, is a clarinet number. This is the unsorted category: there's no guaranteed type of intsrument or composition to fill, but those who audition well know if they want a spot they should cater to the concert theme, thus, Yuri's Eros selection. There's the clarinet player who heads out to do a sonata that didn't make it last semester.

Glancing over to the other side of the room, Otabek can see the other group of Michele and his friends, suited up for the occasion, talking critically amongst themselves as ever. There's Yuuri and Victor... Word has it that Victor's not auditioning again, so he is probably here just because Yuuri is ... There are people not only from music faculty as well, those who are friends and just want to hear music, there's... There's a familiar tall head of black hair in an undercut and Otabek's heart goes _flip flip flip_ because he wasn't prepared for this. All other trains of thought are hacked off. What's he doing here? Has he been here the whole time? Otabek hasn't laid eyes on him for a couple months. The one time Leo told him JJ was getting along fine, he probably caught Otabek's wordless drift that he didn't need any more updates. JJ probably had to get special allowance to audition,  _if indeed that's what hes doing_ and hopefully,  _hopefully_  not intending to make any contact with Otabek himself. Otabek allows himself a couple seconds more to ascertain: yes, JJ's saying hi to Yuuri, alright, he must be the accompanist, singing  _Stammi_. Maybe he got wind that Victor was out of the game. And then Otabek's swiftly pretending like JJ never entered, so he can just turn and pretend to search for him and raise an eyebrow when someone points it out to him -  _hey, that's JJ from last semester_  - even as the clarinet begins to sound from the stage and everyone hushes down.

After that audition finishes, natural attention goes to searching for who might be next. Emil calls up a vocalist. It's not JJ. In the brief upheaval of activity Otabek glances through the crowd at the man against his good sense.

He knows JJ too well. The bounce on his feet, the trademark smile, he was always  _on_  around other people, in the same vein as Yuri, but not the same way. JJ is always engaged. It's like he's pushing outside of himself, around others. Yuri more like settles into some inner rhythm, and others incite or invite him out, he knows he'll get attention whereas JJ always seems like he's striving to welcome it. And Yuri never turns off, but JJ, well, Otabek knows JJ when they're alone together. And so he knows JJ's nervous now, it's clear in his grin and the tap of his leg, and he's trying not to think about it or diagnose it because he doesn't care any more. Nor should he. Right?

No. He shouldn't.

He looks away. JJ's called up next. Yuuri goes out too.

People crowd the wings with an air of curiosity. Most of them know JJ or have heard his story by now.

Otabek knows he should play it cool and listen, too. He knows Yuri's watching him. It's going to hurt to hear the aria. It is.

So Otabek stays. He plays it cool. Trying to be a third party, trying to fit the role of a judge. Of course he's familiar with the echoing sweetness of  _lontano_ , the slide on  _andare_ , and yes, it makes his ears happy, and yes, it's a little too fresh and too good after not hearing it for so long. But he doesn't wish it were him accompanying. He's a third party. His admiration is equal to and not greater than that of those around him.

(Right?)

When JJ returns, Emil says that is the end of the unsorted category.

It will be hard to choose between Yuri and JJ. Possible that they both get a spot if there's enough time.

Next up it's the men's aria spot. So JJ was more afraid to go in the same category as Otabek than to go up against Yuri? Otabek doesn't think that was the wisest decision. But, from a purely objective standpoint, he would have done the same. Objective as he can be.

Michele's up first. He has a narrow gait that makes it look like he might tip over as he strides out onto stage. He's singing something Otabek doesn't recognize and doesn't care to.

Luckily Otabek doesn't have to try and sneak a guess at whether JJ is hanging around. Someone close to him whispers a comment. Why won't he just leave? Get out, stop reworrying the pit in Otabek's stomach: a sudden and rather unfamiliar burst of annoyance.

When Michele's back and his entourage half-smugly crowds around, looking as if their other surroundings now amount to breadcrumbs, it's Otabek's turn. Someone has the nerve to slap him on the back. He flinches under his jacket. Red scratches new and old jolt in pain.

He goes onstage. There's whoever it is at the piano to accompany. The spotlights, as always, are too bright. It can't be compared to the club at all, in the same way he can't compare Yuri to . . .

Already he's assumed stance, taken a couple grounding breaths and nodded to the pianist. Now's his entrance.

He's a decent singer despite one semester of lessons. Talented, one might say. He's alone on stage, and the control is there, he's sustaining his breath support. Still it's hard to know that the man who taught him all these points -  _double breath here, raise the soft pallet more here_ \- is in the wings, listening.

He has to be cold. Doesn't mean what he's singing but he can pretend.  _Deep as the sea. So should your love be for me._  He hopes the edge, the hardness comes into the interpretation. A new take. He'd change the lyrics if he could.  _Red as blood, long as a scar._

When he finishes, he walks back and receives a good talk-up. To his surprise Michele shakes his hand. Otabek deigns to take it. Michele says something: "You're a DJ and producer, aren't you?" then explains something about a function he's involved with. Some wedding. Fancy and expensive. They'd like to sign GLDN on. If he can meet their requirements. Otabek accepts inwardly. Outwardly he says he'll let Michele know.

By that point a lot of people who were just there to observe or sing are leaving. Now it's going to be the orchestral practice and Scheherazade second movement, for which Yuri's as good as shoo-in for the [violin soloist](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6kaQNPPuizs&index=5&list=PLFtCDaG4LZelZ1zYi-uTrIroK_0pnlV7-). Or- Emil's hushing them because someone else is left in the category and everyone's still making noise.

Otabek half turns back towards the curtains that lead to the stage. He doesn't have to go look. Someone else is singing his song. His  _Still_. And from the purity and sweetness of tone, set in a higher key than his, it's clearly JJ. The madman! What's he trying to accomplish here, huh?

 _Third party. Objective_. He glances at Yuri across the emptying room. Yuri, on his phone, briefly looks up and then glances to stage. He must be curious.

Otabek knows what the words to the aria mean. Of course he does.  _If you don't know what the words mean you can't sing it, man. It's the rules_. He's gotta just stand and listen, but it hurts. He knows what's coming after the second verse, after the short piano interlude. He'll have to hear it.

 _Wenn du mich liebst,_ \- if you love me -

\- his skin crawls and gathers on the edges of cuts and wounds -

 _so wie ich dich,_ \- as I love you -

\- the tangle of emotions sedemented to nothing he wants to name, burning now, immovable -

 _will ich dein eigen sein._ \- then I will be yours.

\- everything else he wants, he's striving to want, he's aiming straight and true to  _want_ and to  _have_ and everyone might think he has it, and he'll keep chasing it like external affirmation is enough for him -

 _Heiß wie der Stahl_ \- as hot as steel -

-he once told JJ he wasn't strong, and he's had moments where, in his own shadow, he feels weakest of all; there's an effort to go forward equal to the effort going backward, and he's been putting in the work for one direction, the one that's stamped and approved and his only hope to cover up old tracks: but now he's tugged motionless. He should go. He should  _scram_ before the high note . . . . but this is it.

 _Und fest wie der Stein_ \- as hard as a stone - he wishes hearing were not so autonomous, because it goes through his ears and into his gut. By way of still standing there, he's forced to absorb the plea that follows, dropping off: s _oll deine Liebe, deine Liebe sein_  . . . should your love be for me.

That is the song's message:  _As calm as the night and deep as the sea, so should your love be for me._

Otabek's jaw clenches. He knows there's a last phrase that goes up, higher,  _soll deine Liebe sein_ after a few bars and Otabek does  _not_ want to savor the steady pitch and stunningly  _beautiful_ control of the last vowel held on  _sein_ he knows is coming.

He breaks from his position and leaves the backstage room, passing those who are in the process of leaving but have paused to listen to this last number. Against all his third-party-observer-judge protocol. Fuck it. He's not staying for the last note.

In the washroom so fast it's almost like he's fleeing something dangerous, empty for the moment, scatterplot of half-used paper towel gathered around the trash bin, white tile with red block stripe.

He washes his hands because the running water noise might scrub all these melodies from his ears.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

Backstage, Jean-Jacques Leroy enters from the wings to the half-empty room; orchestra members are beginning to fill it up now and Emil is flipping away at his stapled schedule. Emil makes small talk with JJ, asking him how the other faculty is; JJ grins, you know, he misses all of them over in music.  _Damn, too bad he didn't get the scholarship_! Yes, JJ agrees, it was 0.05 off, they couldn't just give it to him, right? Yuuri and Victor are heading out; JJ gives goodbyes and thanks to his accompanist. Then,  _hey, where's Otabek?_ Another person jerks a thumb towards the double door exit with a scoff.  _Hey, are you trying to show him up or something?_

No time to answer because as a violist opens the doors to enter, she's quickly overtaken by a small flood of engg first-years. They crowd JJ as he's walking out.  _Yo that was some romantic shit! You didn't say you could do that? So what, are you in their performance now?_

The sudden pocket of conglomerating, noisy students exits out into the curved hallway that traces back out to the open foyer and cafeteria that caters theatre events. They spread out, still talking animatedly, several conversations at once, phones out, heading in the direction of the cafeteria.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Otabek hears the unmistakable noise of what has to be a bunch of JJ's friends. He's going to wait till it recedes enough and exits the washroom. He's going to let JJ pass without grabbing him and shaking him and saying,  _what was that?! What was that for?! Get out of my life! Get out of my head!_

Otabek doesn't wait long enough.

JJ's not too far off in his gaggle of engg buddies; he stops and turns as Otabek comes banging out the red washroom door, walking up; some of JJ's companions notice and turn to see what's called JJ's attention, but Otabek's intent on his target. JJ says something, makes a motion,  _catch up with you at the Tim's up from the Hollow_. So his buffer group pulls off without him and JJ stops, thumb hooked under the strap of his messenger bag.

Otabek goes right up to him. JJ's wearing an unzipped light jacket, blue. With vehemence he didn't know he had, Otabek grabs a fistful of the left-hand lapel.

"What was that for?!" as scripted, looking up at JJ, an exclamation, tone sharp and hot. At this, JJ's curious expression turns a more sour flavour and he grabs Otabek's forearm and yanks his hold away. Otabek stumbles back to separate them by a couple of feet.

"I was just auditioning, man," JJ says, his tone slipping from the animated-conversationalist-JJ to something more pained.

"You give me that, what was  _Still_  for?" Otabek still demands, he's angry, he could be furious. "What was that  _for_?!" he repeats, the shout giving brief reverberation in the windowed hallway.

JJ tilts his head and lets out a breath.

"Can we at least be friends?" he says, a thin conjecture, then breaks eye contact, glances down.

Otabek stands a few moments to recover from his outburst.

"No," he says. "Are you . . . ." Derisively now, "Really hoping for something?" It's almost like he can feel his blood run cold, pumped by a stone heart.

JJ shrugs, but the motion is heavy. "Hoping you'll just - idk man, hear yourself at least? See yourself?" It comes off as a plea, but a knowing plea. Knowing? What does JJ know of Otabek, anymore? How far Otabek's laboured to run and JJ still claims he's abreast or ahead of him? God, Otabek is furious.

"You need to get _out of my life_ ," Otabek says; his tone ignites and rips to a hard shout as he's stepping in close to push himself into JJ's face, push him away, JJ's stepping quickly back, blue eyes open and caught by the attack - but then, his gaze flicks down as Otabek's leaning forward to the crewneck of his white shirt that's breathed open in the course of movement.

Otabek tenses and flinches as what feels like an electric shock, as JJ's touch, goes to the fabric and tugs it just slightly to reveal the red-and-purple score, the following pattern of some other love making its mark with teeth.

JJ holds it for a second, makes eye contact with Otabek as if he's confirming this is what he's supposed to see.

"Sure," JJ says, voice cracking, his touch falling off; Otabek readjusts his shirt, heartbeat going mad in his ears.

Yuri's suddenly banging out into the hallway from backstage, bow in hand. Otabek abruptly looks towards his presence, as if caught in the act. JJ, already stepping back to go, looks at Yuri, who's expression is gathering into a low-lying sneer.

Then JJ looks at Otabek.

Then JJ turns.

Then JJ starts walking away.

"My resin's in the practice room. 204K. Get it?" Yuri says, stopping at Otabek's side.

Otabek tears his gaze off the back of JJ's retreating head. JJ's most definitely hearing all of this.

So Otabek won't reply. (If he were stronger . . . ) He just nods, turns to go, glances at JJ nearing the turn in the hallway, farther and farther from him; but he does look back. Blue eyes and black hair, just a swift revolution, like there's still some immaterial struggle between them.

At this point Otabek shakes his head at himself. There comes a point when one projects one's own state onto others, this much he knows.

He turns the other way to head to 204K. 180 degrees. Opposite. Antithesis.

Cacophonous strings start to sound, muffled from the theatre.

Damn JJ for showing up, damn him and his sweet, strong voice, and damn him for  _Still._

But Otabek doesn't feel any better or more certain for having told him so.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

JJ's wasted without having touched a single drink. He's done.

He's been shoring himself up pretty good until now. He's been missing Otabek but keeping him at arm's length. He's been struggling but surviving. He's been stressed but sticking it out and bowing to the Lagranges to do what they want, keep the peace; he's kept his head at school at least, making Otabek more of a stranger that he never sees and only hears about by a degree of separation. He's been pushed down but he's climbed back up every time, hasn't fallen too far despite the underlying sense that this is no way to live.

But to know that Beka - that Otabek's - that - that - that, well - that JJ's been  _replaced?_

He's been replaced.

And what's the truth that has his mind bleeding out?

That maybe Yuri's a worthy replacement.

If JJ shut his eyes and shut off who he knows Yuri Plisetsky is, and just listened to his music, which he did, it's extremely clear that Yuri is insanely talented and has honed that into pure skill.

And then if JJ opened his eyes and saw how he played, with a blazingly sharp brand of confidence JJ's never really had (because, because he fakes it!), and saw how he talked about the other performers while they were backstage and how people  _laughed_ \- and no doubt Yuri snipes at everyone but they all take it for some reason - if JJ saw all this, he would also see Otabek in close proximity, why, it was him and Yuri everyone was concerned with. They had this sort of power. Together. Otabek looks like he's to be taken more seriously, with this knife-like breed of skill beside him.

(He  _did_ see it. Of course he saw this.)

But even separate, it looks like Otabek's got a wide circle of admirers. Or at least, people who want to be around him. And he's not quite the same type JJ knew him to be. It's strange. And it hurt! It hurt to see! Even just that.

After, Sara had talked with him briefly.

"Otabek's GLDN! Did you  _know that?!_ " and she even had stars in her eyes.

Just like Yuuri said. He's a hotshot producer now! Everyone loves him. Otabek had said before, sorta inferred his sidelife as a DJ was something special. For you-know-who and you-know-who in particular.

And of course then Sara had left and Otabek had come back in and then he'd  _ignored_ JJ and JJ had gone out and sung  _Still_ and then Otabek clearly hadn't stuck around to listen! - and instead he yelled at him outside and just proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that Otabek's done, done, done. Done! He wants JJ out and gone to a point of - to a point of not even, like,  _we can sort of get along,_ no, he's property of Yuri Plisetsky now. JJ couldn't describe what that did to him! What it made him feel like! Seeing Beka's skin all kissed and broken by someone else, so soon on the heels of - every thought that runs this way just tangles itself up into a bundle of fireworks and explodes with some combination of sadness and anger.

"You have to walk away," he says to himself. He's off the bus, pretty empty, this route at this time, now heading back down the zigzag streets and getting closer, closer to this home that's just a minefield. He's anxious and he doesn't know why. Maybe he forgot to do something. Maybe he's going to be in trouble! Or maybe Helen will be in a good mood. He doesn't know and JJ doesn't like not knowing. He's still dangling on the end of a string, some nights, some nights he's sure his mind is going to run away on him.

"You can't keep hanging on," he says to himself.

It's very sad. JJ's very sad. His exhales cloud the air.

 _It'll never change._ He understands that now! JJ's always been an optimist. He can get over anything. He can find some way to beat himself at everything, up his personal best. Find a way over or through or around any challenge. But now begs the question: does everything always get better? Does everything  _always_ have a decent possibility of getting better? Can you  _control_ whether or not  _you_ get better? JJ's always thought so! But he's running out of supporting reasons, and nothing's working and he's still  _not over Otabek Altin._


	5. Chapter 5

Reading week Otabek's booked up in terms of gigs. He cancels one, though. Yuri says they're not going. There are gonna be some people he's, to put it lightly, misaligned, there.

Otabek tells himself that this was his decision.

One gig that's part of a two-night streak. He's playing the first night. Opening for a pretty big name, views in the low millions on YouTube. Speaking of which, he got a track promoted on Nexthouse and that's racking up views. Yuri started it.

The two-day streak, oh yes, there's a university-based fest happening the second day, and Yuri says they're going. Not for a gig, just going. Sure. Party. Whatever.

There are still two midterms after the break. Otabek's been running his schedule mercilessly. Until his head is clear he'll push himself at the gyn or through technique. Until he loads the Mercedes up with his gear he copies notes and does practice problems. Until he falls asleep he loses himself in music, and in between, alcohol if he can, and also in between, Yuri, if Yuri chooses. Otabek doesn't like to think of it as Yuri, the person. Not as a romance. Not at all. It's just a red cord to tie all the pages of his life together, bind them so tight they might tear around the cinching thread.

He'd like to think JJ was trying to show him up, singing  _Still_. He'd like to think it was some sort of vengeance. Seems to justify how Otabek is right now, in some way.

But it wasn't, and because Otabek knows this, the only thing he can do is try to avoid thinking about it.

And him.

So he pushes his days full and fast.

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The email comes on Monday. JJ's finished doing some work for linear algebra. He's shut himself in his room. All his engg friends - well most of the them! - aren't studying. They're going out or having fun and there's an event downtown some days but JJ's lost too many evenings to himself. He has to catch up if he's gonna pass! And he's not gotta just pass. He's gotta do well too!

(Anyways, life is safer when he puts himself in a box.)

Not like he won't have free time, he thinks as he opens Outlook and clicks on the email, sitting at the table upstairs (Helen's out, Jacob's at work, kids at school). He's going to have some free time in the afternoons. There's still the calc review to do, and chem assignment questions; he's reading the email, leg tic bouncing:

_Soloists chosen from assorted category: Yuri Plisetsky "Eros"_

_Male vocalist, art song: Otabek Altin "Still wie die Nacht"_

There's a brief well-wishing to everyone who auditioned and then further details about practices, a pdf schedule atttached.

A half-formed laugh escapes JJ's throat. He deletes the email. He didn't get in? Of course he didn't have much of a chance. But he was supposed to have as much of a chance as everyone! Bias! It could be bias, because he's not part of the faculty anymore; rather, he wasn't  _good enough_ to stay part of the faculty -

-  _no,_ he brings himself down a notch,  _no, it's skill, I sung Still as a joke sort of and Yuri's a lot better than me and his thing fits the concert better._ Yeah, it's that instead. They wouldn't be biased. They can't be. Aren't there like, rules? At that level? It's just their decision-making criteria. Whatever those are. He didn't get in. He didn't get in and that's the end of it! So he doesn't have to think about the music faculty and everyone in it ever again if he doesn't want to!

Technically he has time to get his meds during reading week. No, he's gotta do stuff! He's gotta make sure he's fast at Cramer's rule! He's gotta be  _snap, snap snap_ at partial pressures! He's - disappointment's shaking him from the inside out - he's not good enough to get into the concert? He tried! Dammit he tried!

He knows he's gotta sit there and feel disappointed.

"Disappointed," he says, trying the word out. He is. The word is gone as soon as it's spoken in the empty house. He'll text Yuuri a  _so-long-and-thanks-anyways_ sort of thing soon.

Usually, if he sits there and feels like crap for a while, it'll turn into fire, it'll sediment into fuel and he'll get up and climb a higher mountain than before. He'll find a way to outdo himself!

But what is secluding himself inside four walls and not going to hang out with friends and not going to get his meds that will probably fix this whole problem of  _JJ might do something stupid if he's around other people off his meds like this?_ It's not stepping up his game. It's not next level.

At least he's gotta pass his courses. He has to do this, at least.

Which pen? Black, or green, or pink? Make some more notes. Never blue pen. JJ hates blue pen. Usually just dislikes it. But right now he wouldn't touch a blue pen if his circuits mark depended on it! It makes no sense! JJ never makes any sense, does he?!

His leg bounces away and it takes a good deal of effort to clear his mind, fogged with its own steam of thoughts, and return to the determinant problem at hand.

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Tuesday of reading week. Otabek's got the notice that he got into the end concert, and Yuri too. He's rather nonplussed. The more interesting part was that JJ didn't get in. Well, he's not part of the faculty. It must have just been a sympathy shot to let him audition.

That's as much as Otabek will let himself think.

He's standing in the kitchen eating out of a takeout box from Cantina downtown. The dishes in the dishwasher should be put away, but no one's put them away, so there aren't clean dishes, so they've been eating out.

It's 10:10 a.m. Yuri's in the washroom. Otabek's sore and tired and hungry.

Yeah, he's doing stuff with life. He's thinking about releasing an EP end of year. Maybe get a party together for that. Event. Name in lights, on posters.

Otabek finishes the takeout (Malaysian, moderate spice) he's eating and tosses the garbage in the trash and then smells something strong enough that the scent enters even past his watering nose. He sniffs and identifies it even as Yuri's walking slouchily out from the hall.

The blonde's got a lit joint in hand.

"You should go outside with that," Otabek says.

Yuri slowly progresses towards the door. He opens it, laboriously putting his shoes on. On his face is a curious, almost distracted or satisfied expression. Maybe this is the first time Otabek has seen Yuri in some form of authentic good mood not the byproduct of some triumph or one-uppance to somebody else.

Yuri half-exits.

"Come on," he says, fixing Otabek with those green eyes, like he's not seeing the solid, real Otabek.

Otabek follows him out.

It's a chilly and cloudy day outside. Nevertheless, trees lining the path to the courtyard bud spring. Yuri passes Otabek the joint and he takes a hit.

The smell is foul, and he's seen people smoke weed enough he's familiar with the practice but he's never done it himself. Seems like as good a time as ever to start.

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Otabek and Yuri hang out, cutting Otabek's schedule several different ways. Hang out with people who really, really,  _are really trying_ to entertain them. To be liked. Hype for the club night Thursday/Friday.

Otabek's becoming something now. He is.

They go out downtown for wings, they go out before Otabek's gigs on Tuesday and Wednesday, break globes in some home decor store, Yuri's got someone with a supply of weed and Otabek's getting used to the smell and the not-quite-as-high-as-last-time-high that's enough to reorganize and busy his senses for a while. Getting used to being half-drunk, getting used to this week that's just all his weekends stitched together.

Does he like it?

Does he have to?

And does he like it when they're making out, side of the bar, by the Mercedes or in it or against it - or in the atrium, abandoned during reading week - or the practice room (Otabek never books the one he and JJ used to share) - and Yuri pushes his fingers into Otabek's hair, twists it, pulls, pushes till Otabek's on his knees and sucking Yuri off? Does he like gagging, pulled in till his throat's jarred and too sore to sing properly the next day? Does he like it when Yuri has him on the floor and he's choking him out or got a heel pressing into his crotch or is, time and time again, reopening old wounds and making new ones, kissing and tearing and - some kind of love for blood or maybe Yuri just likes having control that goes this far (it would be true if Otabek counted the evidence) - and not asking, no asking, just doing?

He doesn't have to like it. It happens anyways.

And Otabek knows Yuri's fucking other people. There's a girl in psych who's hot as hell. There's Kyana who plays guitar; Otabek saw them. He wouldn't even be surprised if Yuri was hooking up with his violin instructor. Generally Yuri keeps his dick off Otabek anyways. He'll make Otabek come and grin like he's won or something and if Yuri comes, if that's what he wants that particular time, he'll always come after, on Otabek, usually. Otabek's always a mess after. Bloody and sticky and wet. And in pain. Otabek drives Yuri to it, shows just enough resistance to make Yuri bruise him deeper. Because Yuri knows, he  _must_ know this is a fucking farce, it's just sex or whatever the fuck it is. It's pain.  _What he owes_ has become  _what he has to do,_ a ritual you forget the meaning behind. Isn't that the point? Forgetting.

Yuri hasn't mentioned JJ again past a cursory acknowledgement that he didn't get in the concert. But even just that was enough to make Otabek's chest burn, and he couldn't quite place why. Not like it was a pointed comment. Nothing inferring any relation to Otabek. But automatically recalling JJ and his smell and his singing hurts in a way that Yuri could never make Otabek hurt. (If he were stronger.)

The weed helps with the pain.

Blood's ruined a lot of his clothes. Yuri bought him new ones, when they went to the mall with other classmates. Otabek told him he could pay for it. But, and Otabek has always known this since Yuri and him were in high school, Yuri loves to show off.

"Of course I'm fucking him," Otabek heard Yuri tell Havesh, who's a clarinet player, at one point. With a smirk.

That too.

And Otabek's parents? Yuri leads the photo-ops. His mandate is to make it look "as fucking  _gay_ as possible". The one of them at the mall with Yuri and expensive-store-shopping-bags especially hit the mark. But nothing but well-wishes from Otabek's parents. Yuri's hypothesis proved true. Otabek's parents are happy that Yuri and Otabek are getting along so well. The Plisetskys and Altins are getting along famously. Apparently, Yuri's father has made a partnered business move to acquire Otabek's father's company. Yes, they are getting along famously. And his parents are happy that Otabek is in the year-end concert. They're happy that his grades are good and that he has lots of friends. He's told them all this, of course, a smile that feels so strange and foreign forced on his features, clothes hiding his marked-up skin.

He didn't have to force anything before. But when was  _before?_ So long ago. It must not even matter now.

Thursday, day of, when the ceiling and table stop being endless sources of visual entertainment and emotional appeal, the weed's worn off and it's time to get his set together for the big night. Or maybe it hasn't worn off completely because Otabek still doesn't feel as shitty as he usually does. Not that he'd realized he was feeling shitty, but tripping he's found to be a hell of a lot better than normal, so normal, he's concluded, must be shitty.

The club is in the south part of town. They'll drive the Mercedes. Yuri says tomorrow when they just go for the party, they'll take Otabek's Harley. It's going to be just warm enough. Some other people are trying to get in the DJ's ride, like he'll let them. His posters are everywhere around campus, just the name, but now everyone knows the face. Otabek will give details if he wants but Yuri's more the face of his brand. Someone in visual art wants to do his EP and logo rework for free. Lots of amateurs are trying to network with him. The news has spread beyond just music faculty. Even the campus TV network wanted a segment with GLDN, which Otabek denied, of course. Last thing on his list to appear on that trash channel.

Where does this small fame go? Hopefully into bigger things. Bigger distractions.

He'll make tonight the best distraction of everyone's lives.

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"Man... I haven't got a good gig in... Forever.. . like I can't fucking take anything either if I wanna pass all these..." Leo swirls his glass, "shit courses." He speaks laboriously. The bar counter's marked up with residue of condensation and handprints that shine murkily under the overhead lamps.

JJ is with him there. He doesn't really know why he accepted. He came up with a reason to get out of the house, actually, that's why, excused him from chores though he sorta kinda lied about it being just to study because he  _did_ study, but now he's not, for sure.

The Hollow's kind of empty. Reading week and all. Baristas and servers gossiping and talking loudly with each other in off-duty pockets.

JJ's not in the mood or financial conditions to buy anything besides the local brew he already finished. Warms him up a little, sends his mental state on a dampened trajectory that's not good for anything besides half-finished thoughts that tire before going all the way. Wet fireworks. He's sliding his hand up and down the exterior of his empty glass, making patterns of vertical smudges. Feeling dimly guilty for making Helen think he's at a study group for chem.

"The big two-nighter at MUZ in the south . . . can't believe fucking Otabek is playing there fucking . . . fuck . . . I might just . . . " Leo downs the rest of his drink, "I might go like . . . tomorrow."

JJ finds a rhythm to tap his fingers in for a while.

"I  _am_ gonna fucking go," Leo says. He bangs his glass down on the counter maybe a little too loudly.

JJ just nods supportively, kinda. See, it's times like these where he doesn't need meds. Doesn't need them! He's in a social setting and doing just fine without them.

Noise approaches from the open doors and Leo and JJ turn to the sound. Other students from their block.

"Hey," JJ says as the pocket crowd comes over and lumps at the counter. Greetings go back and forth.

"Yo so we aint the only people not at MUZ huh," says some guy, Michael, and everyone starts calling to the barista what they want.

"Or Lighthouse."

"There's someting at Lighthouse?"

"But really I'm gonna get fucked by webwork for real."

"Nah you're gonna get fucked by the exam next week."

"You're not allowed to say next week. It's not next week."

"Hey where's Kayla? She's in Banff right?"

"Yeah she left yesterday."

The sudden noise hurts JJ's head for some reason. The alcohol makes a throbbing medium. He gets up, Olivia takes his place. She's smart, he thinks, she asks good questions.

"Hey JJ, stick around a bit!" she says.

"Nah, I've been here for awhile," he excuses himself.

Some other people detach their attention from the group to see him go.

"Hey, JJ, I'll buy you a shot!"

Someone else calls to this person  _no you won't!_

JJ keeps backing out. He can't handle people right now. Not this many. It's reading week! He's supposed to be hanging out with people. But he's gotta get back at a reasonable time because what if he gets back too late and everyone's sleeping and he accidentally makes noise and wakes them up and then that wouldn't be good and besides, it's late and he's tired all of a sudden, his mind's warm from the friction of thoughts and the beer.

"J! You and me, tomorrow," Leo shouts as a final declaration as his glass is refilled.

JJ leaves the Hollow and walks back to the train station. He gets on the train. It's pretty empty. Lights too yellow. Pulls away,  _chunk chunk chunk chunk chunk_.

JJ stands. If he sits he might fall asleep. But wouldn't that be nice? Just fall asleep and ride till the end of the line. Oh that would be so nice! But he's gotta stay awake.

He got a package in the mail from Bella and co. with some pick-a-bricks and he's sort of working on a little creekscape kind of thing. Maybe he'll patch that together when he gets back.

The circle-patterned red-brown flooring's got dust and dirt collecting in the depressions. JJ hates dirt. Usually dirt bothers him. He always cleans up after himself! But he doesn't always clean up to, well, Helen's standards. He tries to clean up good enough, better than his peers at least! Usually he would be mildly disgusted by the floor in the train. But the dirt and the used smell doesn't bother him tonight, or maybe it does but there's some kind of buffer catching it. He clutches his binder and phone in one hand. He just wants sleep. He wants the last of his awareness to just go away, for as long a while as he can spare. Maybe then, after, he'll be able to try, climb, succeed,  _conquer, surmount._ He can't come up with any longer words, so he just stares out the window at the highway zooming by, dark blue blankets of clouds punctuated by lighter strips, subdivision lights dotting low hills and houses a mottled dark grey in the nighttime. The train goes clunk and clank under his feet with the journey over the rails. Time seems irrelevant.

When he wakes up next morning, for sure he'll be going a mile a minute in all different directions, but there's a grand delusion right now that tempts the illusion tomorrow and his state thereupon can't be counted on. Tomorrow - well, it might not even come! Wouldn't that be nice? It's a funny thought. He hasn't got the energy to refute himself.

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JJ makes another excuse to get out of the house.  _I'm not going to be home for supper because I'm going to the university to study._ It runs over and over in his head and he tries to tell Helen at the right time. There's never really a right time, though! It all just depends! But she's in a good mood and she's nice and she says  _OK_ and JJ tries not to make his exhale of relief too loud.

It's not really going to be an excuse. He'll actually study. See, he's getting his calculator - yep - and his binder and his extra refill leads and maybe his running shoes cause he could burn off some of the jitteriness lodging in his bones - although maybe he should use the energy to go, you know, get his prescription -

\- this he thinks as he's trying to get all his papers in order and decide what to bring and what to not bring. His bed is a mess and he doesn't like it but he doesn't feel like he can handle organizing it now, of course not now, not now that he's thought about his meds and he told Bella that he was still doing OK and reading week was great and that was  _part_ true because, well, he can shut himself in and avoid everything that might break him down now. Which kind of implied he was still taking his meds. He needs to get back on them! He - his phone buzzes and it  _irritates_ him, he swipes the notification off but . . . but - ! There's a calendar notific - oh right - oh right he did decide this - it says he's supposed to go and get his meds. He can go to the walk-in 'cause it says on their website he can get his files transferred. He did this? He figured this out? Dimly he remembers last week, maybe googling something of the sort.

So he can go? He can? He's on track with his studying. His calendar says he should go. Should go get his prescription. Get his meds. (Should. He's only sleeping fine because it's reading week and still, still he's got shakes sometimes, he  _knows_ reading week is just a false sense of security.) Everything will be better if he gets his meds.  _But not his audition for the concert, not Helen, but not Beka,_ but maybe  _JJ_ can be better. Ha! He'll try. He'll try!

He leaves at 9:30, when Helen's already gone - he doesn't like talking to Helen, he likes staying in his room until he hears the garage door close - and he locks the door and turns and jogs down the couple steps - turns back and checks that it's locked even though,  _even though_ it  _has to be_ \- it is but, you know - he brushes the whole thing off and continues the path to the bus stop. Whistling his theme. (Though it will always be Jenay's.) The tune cuts through the air.

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The train trundles closer and closer to the stop. At this time of day it's not too crowded. He's got a seat and a couple buffer seats on either side, one taken by his messenger bag. Creekside station. He's gotta get off there and go to the - wait, which side of the terminal was it again? He doesn't know! Well he can't go then! No, he wrote it down. He put it in his phone. He takes out his phone and looks at the shorthand instructions he made. Yes. OK.

Fifteen minutes later he's on the bus and it's moving in the right direction. On Google Maps the blue dot crawls closer and closer to the clinic.

He manages to ring the bell and thank the driver and get off. The clinic's in an unfamiliar plaza. He's never been in this part of town before! He walks fast. If you walk fast you don't look lost! He doesn't want to look lost.

He catches sight of it, the sign of the clinic. There's a wind but not too many clouds in the sky. It's an OK day. He's still wearing a scarf. They don't smell too much like Beka anymore, any of them. But just enough! That's OK, right? He's OK. He's gonna be OK.

He pauses a few parking stalls away, by the handicap, outside a florists' or something. Abruptly. His feet stop.

What was he thinking? He can't get his meds. What if there's someone in there he knows? What if the doctor who sees him doesn't think he's got enough symptoms? He's doing pretty good! He doesn't look like he needs help! Who is he kidding?

He pulls out his phone because he needs to think and not look like he's thinking. Maybe he should text Bella. No, he shouldn't! He's an adult! He's taking care of himself. Everything's on his record, he's got to rationalize. They'll have no problem getting him a prescription. But the headache of getting his student plan coverage - and it's only 40%, he looked it up - his budget runs through his head, this detailed tally -

What if someone from uni finds out he's been here? Maybe their family works here. Maybe they see him or something and -

JJ takes a step back and that's all, that's all it takes, he's going back the way he came.

Wind's in his face, not at his back; he hopes he looks maybe just like he forgot something or took a wrong turn.

 _He's gonna be OK._ That's his prescription. Who's going to fill it?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Otabek calls his parents. He had one or two drinks yesterday. He's saving himself for tonight because he's got to go with Yuri and get lit or whatever. Yuri assures him they'll be the life of the party. Some of it, at least. There's going to be a huge student crowd there and they all know him from last night.

His parents are happy. They're normal. Life's normal. Is it all worth it? Not like Otabek is fighting for anything at all. Not like anything should be  _not_ normal.

Yuri's violin sings away in the background while Otabek chats with his parents in his room. Yuri's practicing is confident and relentless. He never stops for mistakes. Otabek almost never does, either, but sometimes he can't help going back a few bars to correct if it was a really terrible flub.

"I have to practice soon," Otabek tells his parents as a way of saying goodbye. They never really talk for long, anyways. Busy, busy. It was his father's lunch break.

"We love you," his mother says.

Her content smile is priceless, really.

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"Get in, man. Get in. Come on. We're going."

Leo found JJ on campus, where JJ had been trying not to be found. Honestly, JJ had been walking around. He'd studied and gotten tired of studying. He'd eaten lunch and decided to see if the piano in Camme Hall was free. (He hasn't played piano in so long! Can he even play any more?) - and that was on the other side of campus, and he took the indoor route and bumped into Mikyla on the way and walked and talked with her for a bit and then said bye and went back on his way to Camme Hall - it was all very safe. It's been a safe day. (Not getting his meds was safe. Or it feels safe.) He's staying away from the dorm areas and the places Otabek would frequent, what would be in his radius. The music wing with the practice rooms. Stay away from those! JJ doesn't have any reason to go there anyways. Just like he didn't have any good reasons to get his prescription and get it filled. Tsk, too much trouble! Doesn't need it!

Then it was back to the library's fourth floor and eventually Leo had waltzed in as JJ was losing track of time, integrating and integrating and integrating. Leo returned some DJ equipment he'd borrowed and then he was pulling JJ along out to the parking lot where his beat-up '05 Ranger with rust around the wheel wells sits. Leo has a mouth made for talking and talks and they hang out by his truck, sort of talking and going on their phones and talking more. JJ doesn't mind. But eventually Leo says they're going to MUZ. And JJ says no! He doesn't party like  _that_! And Leo said he wasn't as much fun lately. He needed some "spice" in his life. "You're all fucking worried and shit about math or something," Leo had said.  _I'm fine!_ JJ had said. Cracked a half-grin.  _Who isn't though? Worried about math?_

Leo had said something generalizing the whole semester, a statement not collected very well and not very direct that made JJ think maybe someone was catching on - no, no one can catch on - no one can catch on to him! But Leo had dropped it. So, the door opens and Leo practically pushes him in and JJ dumps his stuff among the rolled-up-rimmed coffee cups and empty plastic coke bottles and pamphlets and folders for activities and events; Leo climbs in the driver's side; it smells faintly of smoke; JJ wrinkles his nose but they pull out of the parking lot nonetheless. Leo squeals around the circular entry loop with careless joy and sits waiting for the light to let him turn at the main intersection.

The texture of the traffic lights. The alternating, flanged green struts on the side of the AESC building. The skiff of dust on the dash, the color and size of the beads on the red string looped around Leo's rearview. Like when the eye doctor flips the little round lenses too fast, but instead all of them are sharp, sharp sharp. (JJ used to have glasses for about a year and half but it fixed itself - a story he tells at the necessary  _something-interesting-about-yourself_ prompts.) JJ's gaze darts from one thing to the next to the next to the next. Leo turns the radio up too loud. Garish trap. JJ's brain's going like the  _tap-tap-tap-tap-tap_ of the cymbals through all the tracks. He should keep himself out of range of any excessive stimulus. But what's he hoping to get out of that? What's he hoping to achieve by  _not_ setting himself up for - well, you know, the usual dysfunction? Midterm marks. Just that? No, making his family proud. Doing them right. Doing himself right.

He'll go with Leo, he'll just show up and say hi and then Google Map the nearest train station and get himself back home and leave Leo to get high and drunk or whatever he wants. He rolls his shoulders back and half-listens to Leo say how someone cheated on someone and stuff about someone's internship connections and their rich parents sending them to Dubai all-expenses-paid.

"Yeah, that sounds sweet," JJ agrees to the latter.

"I know right. It's like everyone's fucking made of money. All the smart ones, you know?"

Not JJ.

(He  _is_ smart, though. He's smart. He can do this! He's done it so far. But maybe smarts isn't much compared to resilience.)

"Cs get degrees," JJ says with a half-laugh.

"Yeah, hey I was talking to Luke and he said his dad works for Enovesse, like really fucking high up right? And he said his boss, his dad's boss, failed out of . . . ."

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JJ is very much regretting this.

It's about 9:45 p.m. and he's had a couple drinks - courtesy of Leo and company, there's a friendly buffer of people he knows amidst the lights and bodies and the music run by someone who JJ recognizes from one time when Otabek played a set after her - but he's left the building now. Plus, he's never been to MUZ before. JJ doesn't really appreciate strippers. It makes him uncomfortable. He's got enough to feel uncomfortable about. Maybe if he did this more often, he'd feel more comfortable, but he's not sure that's something he wants to be comfortable about. All this as a very subconscious thought that manifests in him up and going, fresh cool air slamming him in the face, out past the bouncer who'd ID'd him.

He was  _going_ to just go, but, Leo's had too much. And his vehicle's here, but no designated driver. So JJ had gotten Leo's keys and now he's sitting in the parking lot in Leo's truck idling with the heat on. He doesn't want to stay but, you know, Leo should get back in one piece! and that should be soon, so maybe JJ will try to drag him out if it gets later. When it gets later. JJ's got a life, too!

Rain starts spattering the windscreen. JJ found the jazz/classical channel and it's playing something he's not familiar with, some sort of piano concerto, though. He's tapping his fingers on the wheel. He's casting glances at his bag of books and calculator and pencils and pens. He's scrolled through his phone a few times. He's alone and boxed off from the world and it's good. It's good this way! His mind entertains him enough. It makes up stories. It goes on fantastic journeys of  _what if._

He talks to himself. He tells himself how ridiculous all these ideas are. "That's dumb, JJ." He's not smart enough to be a physicist. But - if he were! Or what if he got famous as a vocalist? Doing something on the side? What if he did some kind of acoustics engineering? What if he invented a biomedical surgery for noninvasive vocal node healing? "That's not great, though," he tells himself aloud, "Because people who do that . . . should learn not to." He's interrupted by a yawn. What time is it?

10:25. Time to get Leo out, and if Leo won't get out, well, JJ's going to have to leave him.

JJ shuts off the engine, pulls the keys out and opens the truck door. Sky's dark and city lights shine. The rain's let up but wetness makes the pavement gleam mottled and car windows and tops sparkle.

He threads between a BMW and an old Cavalier for the door again. You can hear the music, or more, feel it, even outside.

He doesn't know how he stood this earlier, the noise and lights, it makes his head hurt and it takes him a good five minutes to find Leo (he's interrupted by a girl who was eyeing him up earlier but he manages to escape); Leo's standing around watching a performer in a sparkly outfit (which JJ can't quite tell the color of because it's just reflecting all the constantly-shifting spectrum of lights) and looking drunk off his ass.

Leo doesn't want to go. Mainly because others in their social group aren't going home either. OK, well, JJ's got to leave him, then! He presses Leo's keys sharply into his hand. Leo's hair is all in his face and JJ parts ways, back through the crowd. It's too much. How come he can't handle it? He needs air. He needs space! It's too much. Disoriented, trying to find a reference point or a patch or floor or something - he ends up in a hall by the washrooms. Might as well. At least it's less overwhelming, though there's still people going in and out.

When he's washed his hands and is drying them and preparing to get back out into the madness, there walks in someone he recognizes, but doesn't.

Otabek's wearing a jacket and white V-neck and tight pants. His hair's a mass but it's the look on his face, the posture, like he's  _something_. But he's more than something, he's on something, clearly, because when he looks at JJ there's none of the frigid anger from last time they met.

"JJ," Otabek says, in some kind of tone. He's on something, for sure.

JJ freezes and then frowns. A couple of people push past Otabek, who's dawdling on in.

Otabek actually approaches JJ.

"You came out. It's a good time," Otabek says.

JJ feels a crude mix of emotions to see Otabek like this. He finds himself grabbing the lapels of Otabek's jacket.

"Look at you!" JJ says. The words don't need to be thought, they just come out. Well, he's had a couple drinks too. "Look at you! You're drunk! And you're high, aren't you?"

Clenching his knuckles white for a few seconds around the leather, JJ looks at Otabek-not-Beka- _not-even-Otabek_ , who then - who then! - shoves him off.

"Don't touch  _me,_ " Otabek says, but then he laughs in some kind of triumphant tone. He wipes a hand down his face a couple times, then turns for the sink.

This is Otabek now? He's not even playing the event, and he's partying? Otabek's better than that! He's got a future! He's got so much of a future! He's bright and talented even if he  _is_   _Otabek-Altin-not-Beka_ , he's got the stars and universe open to him, Otabek Altin does, and JJ - well, JJ can't stand to see him doing this to himself! It's not right. It's a waste! He latches on to Otabek's collar and they both look in the mirror.

"Look at yourself!" JJ's angry. At what? He doesn't know. It's not really Otabek. "Look at you!" It's almost pathetic! Shameful! But Otabek grins then turns and elbows JJ off pointedly, into his chest. JJ stumbles back.

"Get out of here," Otabek says, but it's him who turns and leaves.

JJ stands there for a few moments.

Somehow he manages to get himself back out into the natural world.

He takes a deep breath. Night's cold. He left his bag just by the front tire of the truck. Grab and go. Train isn't far.

But he's re-passing the side of the building to leave, there's a gaggle of people flushing out of the club and hanging in the lot. Someone's puking and other people are kissing and drinking. Someone's probably doing coke off the hood of someone else's car. JJ for sure knows some of them, students, so he swerves away, but then there's Otabek leaning against his Harley with some girl who passes him a joint and - then JJ's too close and Otabek looks at him. JJ keeps walking. But he's looking! Looking as Yuri comes up to Otabek's other side followed by some other girls and guys and Yuri eyes Otabek, follows his gaze even as it's sliding off JJ - Otabek's mouth is then on Yuri's and Yuri's eyes land on JJ and then it all snaps because JJ doesn't want to see Otabek grabbing Yuri like that, down around the low waist of Yuri's ripped-on-purpose black jeans, or Yuri grabbing Otabek like that, pushing his face back to break the messy kiss and reaching over Otabek's shoulder for something some girl's holding out - Yuri acting like he owns Otabek, and Otabek being owned, and all the people with them having some kind of time, good or not.

He's got enough evidence now. Otabek isn't Beka anymore. Why did JJ think he could be? Why?! Well, he still could be! But look at him! (Don't look at him.) Look at what he's doing with his life now!

Staring out the train window as it takes him back to the home-that's-not-a-home, JJ can't wipe the look and feel of high-drunk-Otabek off his face or mind. It's something that shouldn't be. Maybe JJ should be triumphant - maybe he should smirk at the fact that Otabek's doing this with himself, without JJ! But he can't gloat, he can't be petty or shallow like that. Because Otabek has the world. That's why he left JJ. To have the world. To take his rights, to take opportunities, advantages. And he should.

Otabek  _should_. He should have his piano and his grades and his money and his life and his friends and his fame - (and his violinist, sure, throw that in there. Throw that in there!). But this won't get him there - alcohol and partying and all that. JJ knows that and he's sure Otabek knows that too! So it's very sad. Not in a crying sort of way. No, it's sad because it shouldn't  _be._

At least, if they broke up, something should go right in the world! One half should still be whole! And damn, it isn't JJ, so it  _should_ be Otabek!

It's just a waste! A waste.

And then JJ's thoughts lapse to seeing Otabek's mouth on Yuri's and their hands on each other. Is that a waste, too? The second Yuri looked at him so JJ knew he knew, that JJ wasn't a player in this game, and maybe it didn't matter that he'd ever been. The way Yuri's palm caught under Otabek's chin and fingers caged his jaw and pushed the kiss broken because there was something else interesting to attend to while their bodies were pressed together. The way Otabek was still hanging off Yuri. Is that a waste? Of course it's a waste! It is! Otabek has better than that in him!

Is there a chance that  _anything_ gets better?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Otabek had done a line of coke in one of the VIP rooms someone got him into because he was GLDN. It had turned out good. He'd felt like he was the next big thing, right? He was  _it._ He'd danced and had a drink, not like he needed it, and talked to people because he was the Next Big Thing.

He had done another line once it started wearing off. Then a couple shots, people he recognized and strangers, started to become the same.

He remembers bits and flashes. He remembers whatever stripper dancing with/on Yuri and then him. He remembers blue, blue eyes. Someone had grabbed him. He thinks he might've fought someone over something they said about . . . something, out in the parking lot. He knows his bike's still parked at MUZ because his heart was going too fast and he was too spaced and paranoid to drive anything.

Now he's just miserable. He feels like absolute shit and he has barely slept. He's sitting on his bed in the dorm. Yuri and him must have fucked around because he's got bruises and blood and he's a dirty mess. But showering and cleaning up and getting on with his day isn't on the radar for now.

What do the blue eyes mean? He remembers blue eyes. It comes back, suddenly. In the bathroom. JJ was there. Or was he dreaming? Was he tripping?

_"You were looking at him. Was he there the whole fucking time? Did you find him? If you fucking touched him - "_

Otabek remembers Yuri saying this. So JJ must have been there. Why? No good reason. Now Otabek's head hurts and his stomach hurts and his skin hurts and his throat hurts and his mind hurts and he feels absolutely, totally  _miserable_.

He turns over in his covers, scrolled up in a mess of quilts and sheets, knowing he's not going to get back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry this is not like a super exciting chapter but i mean at least its something lmao


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> well everyone might hate me but oh WELL

Monday and reading week's over. Is anyone going to classes? Probably not. And probably not Otabek.

What was last night? He rolls out of bed. He fumbles around. His head hurts and he feels shitty. The feeling puts him in a foul mood.

He can't remember what last night was beyond the gig Michele hired him for. It was a wedding reception, all right. But they'd rented the third most expensive hall in the city. They'd had everything, and seemed like everyone, there. Otabek hadn't even gotten introduced to the bride and groom. There was dancing and drinks till 2 a.m. Michele was a pretty decent guy, from a business point of view. And clearly he had connections. Was somewhat of a socialite from how the event ran. Otabek didn't mind shaking hands with the man, now. Could be a useful relationship.

Yuri was invited along. That had been a stipulation of GLDN playing the event. Who had made that stipulation? Otabek doesn't care to define. It had been him enforcing it, which makes the case of definition irrelevant.

The lightswitch isn't where it should be. Otabek's paused to decide if he  _wants_ to turn on the light, arrived at the conclusion that, yes, he wants to, so now he is extremely inconvenienced by it not being where it should.

He retraces his thoughts, though he's not enthralled by the effort it takes to do so. He just wants the lights on, go piss, go see what he'll have to cover up to go out in public.

Some foggy realisation as his vision adapts to the dark, a realisation that solidifies: he's not in his dorm.

Right.

They're on the 13th floor of a 4.5 star hotel that Yuri got them into as some kind of afterparty. There's a girl in the bed. She's sleeping.

Otabek works his way around the edge of the room to the bathroom, takes said piss, and tries to get his stuff (quietly) with her sleeping there. He's got no clue who she is. He's got no clue  _what_ stuff he has here to collect.

He feels like shit. But it's rather normal.

In short time there's a  _beep_ and the door room opens, a slice of hallway light drilling in. Yuri.

Otabek comes as beckoned. They step out into the hall. Yuri's got his wallet and Otabek takes it.

Otabek doesn't really know what he's done, or what's happened, besides drinking, and from how he feels, he's been high too. He rubs his eyes. Yuri was there. There were more people there last night. They must have left. A dull feeling rouses under Otabek's skin, under the layers of persona he's shifted into. It's something unsteady that he can't trace back to a certain cause. What did he  _do_ last night?

But Yuri's pushing him.

"Come on, let's get out. They're all still asleep."

Otabek's digging in his heels. Where did Yuri come from? Who was he all sleeping with? Otabek manages to phrase a question along those lines.

"You don't remember? You got pretty fucking high. We were all in your room and you conked out first, then Jessie, then we all just left cause you took up the bed."

Yuri's still pushing him along. Otabek yields. They get in the elevator and Yuri hits the starred  _one._

"Who did . . . " Otabek's still mumbling. He's honestly a little surprised that some internal alarm system is still working, that's he's not cold to everything that's happened.

" . . . you fuck? I don't know, am I supposed to keep fucking track?" Yuri leans and kisses Otabek, and his breath tastes sour, and Yuri grabs Otabek's ass and is pressing them close for just some glancing moments. Maybe it's supposed to derail Otabek's train of thought. It doesn't. Otabek needs to change his clothes; they're stiff from sweat and sleep and whatever else happened. "It was a good time, K? Loosen the fuck up. Also, I know how much Michele paid you. Cut me 30% and I'll talk to Heather. She'll give me a deal. She likes me." Yuri leans against the elevator wall, the calm self-satisfied smirk on his face. "We'll get high again and you'll forget about your  _bad feelings,"_ Yuri says in a mocking, cajoling tone, because Otabek's still frowning. The elevator dings and the doors open and they step out into the lobby; high quality marble-looking floor, upkept leather furniture, plentiful lighting.

Yuri makes for the hall to the exit with his efficient, cat-like pace, but Otabek's still not got the motive to leave. Yuri looks back and nods impatiently at Otabek.

"Come on," he says sharply.

The elevator beside them dings as well and someone steps out as Otabek's still hesitating. A man who looks like he's been through much the same as Otabek and Yuri have last night, wearing a rumpled white dress shirt and suit pants, akin to Yuri. He sets eyes on Otabek and walks straight over and has delivered a (hungover) hook to Otabek's jaw by the time Otabek realizes everything. It only glances as the unknown assailant staggers with the followthrough, but Otabek's hand goes to his face and his nervous system tries to boot up through all the shit Otabek's put into his own system.

"Fuck!" Yuri says as the man starts yelling and cussing at Otabek, some girl's name thrown in; only by Otabek's luck is this man clearly suffering from lack of coordination and maybe just as strong a headache as Otabek has, so he's able to duck under a couple follow-up swings, but then the man full-on tackles him.

"Hold on-" Otabek's shouting as they hit the floor  _hard._ The other man is spitting and yelling and Otabek's trying to kick him off and he's wrestling him by shoulders and so far evading wildly angry punches - then, Otabek gets respite enough to scramble to his feet as Yuri drags the man back in a vicious chokehold.

"Get back to your room, fucker, we don't owe you anything," Yuri hisses and lets the man go, but he just lunges straight back at Otabek, out for blood, still yelling obscenities - but Yuri kicks his feet out from under him (hands in his pockets while he does it) and then grinds a heel into the small of his back. "I said, get back to your room," Yuri reiterates and the man exclaims in pain as Yuri jabs his shoe down.

Yuri and Otabek beat it. They're not followed.

Otabek follows Yuri to the Mercedes; Yuri produces the keys and they get in. Otabek always drives. He's not sure why.

He doesn't say anything until the GPS has got him back on the Trail.

"Who was he?" is all Otabek will say.

Yuri snorts in a derogatory way, flipping through tracks on his phone. Otabek accelerates into the leftmost lane. No reply comes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When they get back to the dorms it's about 10 a.m. Otabek leaves his equipment in the car in the parkade.

Yuri's going to get food. Otabek's going to shower.

"What did he want?" Otabek says before they part ways. But Yuri's not there to answer Otabek's questions. Yuri is there to do what he pleases.

"I don't know, maybe he was too busy dicking someone else and saw you with his girl, I don't fucking care," Yuri says. "Consent to not consent but they always regret it after, huh?" But it's more pointed, like  _they_ might mean Otabek. And trouble if it does. But Yuri stays little time after that; it's said noncommittally and he heads off.

Otabek stays rooted to the spot for some moments.

The phrase  _in too deep_ could be relevant, but isn't this what Otabek signed up for?

The hit to his jaw was maybe less glancing than it felt like in the moment. Otabek might have to ice it.

He heads back to the dorm. He's supposed to be in class right now. How is  _to hell with the rules_ working for him, hm? Is this how it's supposed to work? Does he let himself feel - guilty? Dirty?

He doesn't have to wonder about feeling it. He knows it.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

JJ's sitting in his room in the dark. It's better dark. He's so tired of stimulation, anything that adds a task to his brain's very scarce RAM.

He's in PJs. He's had supper. It's the end of reading week. Jacob is probably watching tennis upstairs. Helen, working on her computer, always working. The kids are in bed, having suffered a scolding over math marks (which were impeccable and JJ felt bad to see they were getting a Talk for a purely hypothetical situation in which they may not have done as well as they did), but getting away scot-free after very rudely talking back to their parents as they do regularly. Also getting away scot-free after licking the edge of the communal jam jar. JJ had pointed it out and watched to see if either adult would clean it. They didn't, and no correction to the behaviour. Well, no more condiments for JJ in this house!

He swings his legs so they drag against the carpet. (Thinks of physics. Electrostatics! Fun, that!)He should be studying. He can't. He's got too many thoughts. It's going to be like this from now on, isn't it? Because he didn't get his meds! His mind's hotwired and his body's exhausted. If he lay down he would just be tossing and turning in the sheets, so he doesn't.

Even in the dark, even if he closes his eyes, he can see his room, decorated with nothing except a piece of paper taped across from his bed.

It's filled with checkmarks. It's the schedule he made for reading week. He was good! He went out those couple days, sure, but he studied every day at least 3 hours and then he took time for himself to apply for 239,487,191,298 internships (especially yesterday). And after that, to work on his new landscape with all the pick-a-bricks Ryan and Bella and everyone sent him in a package, that's he's mostly finished, and Helen would send her kids downstairs to say  _Mom wants you up to help_ and he'd say  _OK, 5 minutes_ and he was always up within the timeframe! Always!

He ignored the uneasy feeling. The feeling that Helen wasn't satisfied. He detemined to adopt Bella's line. If Helen has a problem let her say it! But she didn't! Which means she didn't have a problem. So JJ ignored it. He just kept doing as he did, if she wanted him to help, he would, but then - but then! She came home on Saturday from a school council meeting and the door was open! The door  _he'd_ come through!

JJ doesn't know how it happened, how he was stupid enough to not only not lock it but leave it unlatched, Helen pointed it out and luckily JJ had only been back for 20 minutes but, " _there's a lot of crime in this area. Someone could have easily just walked in, just come in to take anything._ " JJ was very sorry. He was more than that! He was horrified at himself! But not exactly surprised. He ( _doesn't have his meds and_ ) is choking on his own thoughts running away and tripping him up more than he wants to realize. (Because reading week's over now! Back to the grind!) Sometimes his mind goes as white as the crusty layer of snow blanketing the park space he cuts across from the bus stop and he'll always take the moment of bliss, to be unaware of anything for awhile as he autopilots. And then sometimes he's too full of upcoming exams and responsibilities and what he will soon  _absolutely have to do_ and trying to subdue the pain and regret from everything he's lost since last semester or even before that - sometimes his head's too full he's equally unaware of the basic, necessary tasks.

He's forgotten to lock the door before but that's when people are home; just the same, he  _thought_ he'd made a good effort to not repeat the mistake but no! No! He's screwed it up!

He went downstairs and thought about it and came back up to make a solemn vow, a covenant, he'd started talking a little much, maybe overdoing it, but Helen had changed topics: " _This week it seems like you don't want to help with supper as much. You don't come right when I call you. Especially when you have_ all this time  _to yourself."_

JJ - well, he deserves time to himself! - or does he? After leaving the door open like that? After missing Otabek so much he thinks he'll have to cut out his own heart to stop the foolishness? After he still thinks about him everyday and he's ashamed of himself for it? (Maybe he doesn't deserve as much as he's been taking.) But it's perfectly legal to say he'll be up in 5 and be up in 5 - right? He flusters in confusion, flounders uncertainly; anyways why does Helen send the girls down to fetch him like some slave, she can't be troubled to walk the single flight of stairs down - he's angry and shamed and confused all at once so all he can do is say,  _can we make a schedule so I know when to help out?_

But it gets worse! Helen says no! oh no, she wouldn't do  _that!_ She just expects him to help more! She says something else about the high rate of theft and the door. JJ already apologized. Helen goes on. JJ feels like he wants to implode, he wants his body to be strung out to write 'SORRY' so  _everyone-meaning-Helen_ fucking  _knows_ it but he's confused and under pressure and he promised he'd help Aliesha with her math assignment so he's got to go and do that and he  _needs Beka to take him down from where he is right now,_ he's high on no cocktail of good things, he's pushed up the walls and his body cries for the solace he knew last semester, the rhythm and confidence,  _knowing_ every breakdown he had Beka would bring him back up - not to where he is now, no, he's swung so far back that it might just reach the same peak but in the wrong sense.

He's the sine wave mapped from circuits, down at the negative amplitude under the zero line. Well, maybe not quite. He's still got a grip on it. He could still hold on, might not bow under to the lowest point. He'll overcome. That's what he does. Jean-Jacques Leroy is a king. Right? All that will pair with  _king_ right now is  _responsibility._

Oh, he's responsible. He has to be! He's (1) taken double nights with Music Note. That's what he did today and he has a shift tomorrow too. The kids make him feel better! Even the Lagrange brats, when he watches them for a few hours (offers to, he's not forced, he feels like he should though), seem to take some weight off. But what kind of condition is he in?  _Should_ he be doing this? If they knew what Jean-Jacques Leroy was like  _behind the scenes,_ what would they do?! But they won't know. And then he's (2) got the math midterm on Monday which isn't too bad and then, (3) circuits, circuits on Tuesday which he's nervous for. Well he's nervous for  _everything_ but he's most worried for circuits.

Despite this, he knows most of the first-year cohorts by now and is often one of the first to be asked a question. He's somehow blown out great marks in tests and assignments so far. The material's pretty easy. Aliesha's into him and he turned her down. But they're still friends! Apparently someone else is in line according to Eric. He always has something social to do if he wants to. You know, like all these bar outings and downtown trips and club nights.

(But after this week he's feeling like he  _can't._ )

In the dark, his phone screen lights up and buzzes. It's his parents. He talks to them.

And he tells them most of the surface story, the surface details.  _Yeah, I'm doing good in exams. Yeah, I have some friends._  He smiles. He's tired, you know, but it's OK. It's pretty good! He's doing pretty good. All grown up. Living on his own. They don't need more stress in their lives. If JJ has one mission, it's to give back to his family. They've had it too hard and JJ doesn't want to drag them down.

But the outward effort doesn't change the fact that when he gets back to where he's living, he's got all these unclear obligations at best and he's a scapegoat at worst. (Now he's got to sacrifice time to keep the peace. Be there when Helen calls! Because what's going to happen if he doesn't? He doesn't know and JJ doesn't like not knowing!) It won't change that Beka still crosses his mind many more times a day than he should, because maybe Beka could fix everything - they could  _together_ \- but no! Beka doesn't exist anymore, it's just GLDN, and  _is_ JJ really  _afraid_  that everything's gone and sealed with no change possible?  _(Beka kissing Yuri and hanging off Yuri, high or drunk or both_ -) Afraid? He might be! So the Sunday evening before classes start again his only company is nausea of the coming day pushing back his bedtime, alone and nothing to ground him and needing someone so badly who's left him this stranded, and he wonders what good he's really doing here at all.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

_I think I got the flu or something. Maybe food poisoning. Maybe the Cantina's tacos were over the expiry._

That was what JJ had said because they (his friends) had noticed,  _you look sick, man_. Tossed it off with a couple laughs.

Now sitting in circuits he's not fairing well at all. He got past mesh current just fine. Hell the marks were practically given to him! They wanted node voltages after and that's just paying someone to take your money! But now he's at the bridge. He can't remember the shortcut. He knows he can derive it. But he memorized the shortcut! And it's gone now!  _Calm down, you can do this,_ he starts with himself but nerves choke off the thought. Should've gotten his meds! But he can't! There's just no time. The exam page seems to frolic in his vision. He's gotta take a break. He puts his hand up. Someone lets him out the double doors to the washroom. No one to accompany; the prof gives a nod and a glance; he trusts him. Maybe because JJ always goes to his office hours.

The hallway's got very mild traffic for this time of night, 6:56 by the clock. He's still got an hour! If he makes this quick! What if he messes the test up? What if he makes a stupid calculation mistake and doesn't catch it till it's too late to fix and then half-erases everything but the time's up and everyone is leaving- he can never concentrate once people are leaving because that means he should be leaving, too! He's in the washroom. He's pacing around. Maybe he should splash cold water on his face or something. His brain won't shut up! It keeps going at a thousand miles an hour, moving way out of the time frame of his present situation. It's never this bad! Once he gets into the exam it's always OK!  _Meds. Gotta breathe. Can do this_. He's nauseous and his head swims.  _Gotta kick this- oh no oh no oh no_ \- he throws up. Luckily doesn't make a mess, flushes the toilet, bracing himself for a moment, throat burning. Feels too light, maybe he could float away. He swings back out of the stall. Washes his mouth out, forces himself to head back, through double doors, sit back down, pick up his pencil, mark down reference terminals on all the resistors. Back, back, back. He wishes he could go back. For real!

For real.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Otabek has discovered that everything outside of piano and classes - which he is still passing well, though maybe not as well as before - has something in common.

Music. Loud enough.

Alcohol. Shots enough.

Drug of choice. Do enough.

Yuri. Pain enough. Pleasure enough.

Enough to what?

To repeat the cycle again, amplified even more, so there's no chance Otabek will listen to the answer that he could hear if he wanted to.

Maybe some part of him hopes he can ruin himself too well to ever go back.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

Helen leaves JJ, on Thursday when he gets home at 3:00, with the pressure cooker on the stove. JJ doesn't really  _know_ how hers works because all he's done is turn off the heat under maman's at home to stop it from screaming, but Helen leaves too fast. He probably won't have to touch it, anyways, she says she'll be back in 15 minutes.

He's trying to do linear at the table, but he's interrupted by group chats every 10 seconds (they're arguing about the circuits midterm), and then every other ten seconds checking the time to see if it's been 15 minutes yet.

Suddenly the clock turns 16 minutes past the mark and JJ listens for any sign of Helen coming back. No, no, no, no . . . no, still no . . . he hovers over the pressure cooker and there's a loose part on top that looks like it's sort of broken . . . no, it's been 17 minutes and she's not back! Well, he can turn off the burner, that at least. He does. OK, well he's gotta let off the pressure. He finds some sliding valve that  _pSHHHHHHHHHHHHHs_  out steam. He goes back to his work. See, wasn't so bad! Helen will be back in time to check on it and stir it around.

But it's been a half hour and she's still not back. (Well, twenty-seven minutes is  _basically_ a half hour.) Fine! He'll stir it and check on it and whatnot. That's what checking on it is, right? He's gotta actually look at it.

He's gotta sorta twist the lid and pull if it's anything like maman's - but he struggles past the turning point and  _BAM_ in a half second there's suddenly boiling hot broth and soup everywhere, all over the counters and floor and hissing on the stove and JJ's shirt and socks and his hand that's on the pot handle which he quickly  _clanks_ down on the graphite countertops and lopes the few feet to the sink. Turns on the cold water and puts his hand under. Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit! This is a huge mess! Helen will be back any minute! He's gotta clean it up! How long is he supposed to put his hand under water for? That should be good enough.

\- Take off socks.

\- Wipe counters.

\- Wipe again.

\- Wipe the stove even though it  _hisses_ angrily when he swipes the cloth over it.

\- Gather up all the stew bits and put them in the garbage.

\- Wipe the counters some more.

\- Gather up all the stew on the floor.

\- Wipe the floor.

He's going as fast as he can because  _Helen could be home any second!_ but thankfully, by the time the floor's dry and looking clean and he's wiped down the outside of the pot and changed his shirt - only then does he hear the background rumble of the garage door open and Helen comes in and she doesn't notice anything right away so JJ smooths his hands down his pants and says something like,  _I took the lid off after letting off the pressure like you're supposed to but it, uh, still was at too high pressure I guess - I cleaned it up -_

And Helen says: "You haven't used a pressure cooker before?" as she looks into the pot.

"Um, I, yeah, but I thought it was depressurized enough?"  _He reallly hasn't used a pressure cooker before really! He's just making it up! Still he knows how they work. Sort of._ "And the top piece looks sort of broken?"

Helen just says something about now there might not be enough for supper. She starts moving around the kitchen worriedly. She says something about having to make something else.

"Sorry," JJ says. "Uh, maybe show me next time?"

But there won't be a next time. His insides are all gathering up because Helen won't come out and say whatever she's thinking of him, and oh, why does he have to make trouble and get into these situations all the time - so he goes back to linear at the table where the girls are setting up to do their iPad-based homework but he can't really focus, all he's got is this  _not-enough-left-for-supper_ track playing in his mind and he's trying to act normal! Because it was an accident! But he can't help feeling bad about it! He shouldn't have been dumb enough to make the mistake!  _'You haven't used a pressure cooker before?'_ \- well, well, was he  _supposed_ to have?

Now one of the girls is whining to Helen about not getting to play a racing app like the other girl was doing, but the other said girl has run upstairs and Helen yells after her and she shouts some excuse back very shrilly while the other is still whining. The rangehood fan is on. JJ gathers up his stuff and heads downstairs, hopefully passing under Helen's radar while she's engaged with yelling at her children over all the noise.

He shuts his room door and throws his books and stuff on the bed and squeezes his eyes shut and takes some breaths. Eventually he opens his eyes to look at his hand. It's going red and shiny. Shit! He's gotten burns before and they're just annoying, you can't touch them because they hurt at the stroke of a feather and then they start going brown and peeling off and that's disgusting! But Helen can't see it. That's just more trouble! If she knows! He's gotta make an excuse in case. Maybe in a chem lab or something. She'd buy that! Probably. JJ would buy that. He'd make himself buy it if he could.

The group chat's still blowing up about circuits. Just thinking of the exam makes JJ feel sick again! His brain has every single production line crammed with fruitless lists of possibilities and outcomes based on the fact that  _he might've screwed everything up!_ Who's he kidding! He just screwed dinner up and burned his hand and - he's gotta go back upstairs and act like, you know, it's just a small thing, he's fine, who wouldn't be, everyone's overreacting: there's noise outside JJ's head, there's noise inside, and he feels like it's choking him.

Before going up for dinner, he pulls on a long-sleeved shirt and thanks his stars he's right handed and maybe he can sort of keep the other hand out of sight, out of mind.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

Helen  _did_ notice. "I hope it's not from the soup!" she had said. She was in a good mood. JJ shook his head. "Oh no, it's . . . from chem, it's fine," he'd said. "Do you need something for it?" she asked, and JJ said no. It was annoying because it sort of covered half of his hand on the top and you can't touch it. He did put some oil maman sent with him on the area. It's fine.

JJ calls his parents on Sunday as usual. Maybe he should tell them all the trouble he's having. Except he doesn't know where to start.

"Oh yeah, how are the Blaises?" he says and maman tells him about the dinner they had with them and new neighbors. Maman says of course they talked about JJ and how he is off studying engineering at university. Proud! Maman is still proud of him. Of course, he hasn't told her anything different. But he feels guilty, and maybe he should. Maybe he should tell them a little bit.

JJ asks after his dad as usual. Is he there to talk? He'd rather break the news to papa. But, oh no! He is not there! Why? He's at the chiropractor's. He was rear-ended! Oh no! His insurance covers treatment, right? Right. It's not bad is it? No, no, some whiplash and soreness, he hasn't been at work. JJ's heart falls inside him. Where did it happen? Maman gives him the details, pulling out of a parking lot with someone tailgating him, they were good about it but it happened all the same. JJ gives his well wishes.

When he hangs up shortly after, JJ hasn't told maman anything. Well, he can't trouble her with that on her plate! And with papa off work, you know, he can tell it although she doesn't say it, she must be more stressed too. Next time they chat.

Maybe JJ can tell Bella instead. He replies to a message from her; they're talking about McDavid (got a hat trick last two games! Despite that the Blackhawks are still outdoing them!) but she's got school as well as him. JJ has to remind himself - he's an adult. He's grown up. Only a month more. Only one more month! Then he's out of here! But even that is a proposition with too many unknowns. Because what will he leave with? Less than he came?

 **Jay:** hey did u show Ryan the waterscape i did from the pick a bricks?

 **Bella:** Yeah but he hasn't replied! He's on a Ireland trip. He'll get you something I'm sure

 **Jay:** cool cool

 **Bella:** I'm looking at this Japan exchange in the summer. I can take some options there.

 **Jay:** sweet how long is it

_(Load more messages . . . )_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"We'll be arriving the day of the concert to see you! And we would like to take you and Yuri out to dinner at a nice restaurant. Send us some suggestions, won't you?"

This is the news Otabek gets over a brief Skype call with his parents that Wednesday. He likes the screen, because they can't smell weed on him, or see all the mess he's crammed out of the frame, or have a chance of sensing what their son is really doing with himself across the ocean, but he'd rather skip the call altogether. He doesn't like talking to them, and he should be happy that they're coming to see his performance, but he's not. He's even less pleased that now he has to do some kind of dinner with them and Yuri at a nice restaurant. That can't happen. Yuri will have to say he's somewhere else or busy.

It feels like they're paying attention to the wrong thing. The concert isn't trivial by far, but it's shrunk to just another to-do list item for Otabek. Of course, he's led his parents on. He hasn't told them anything about his DJing. About his rise to small fame. About how he doesn't know really how much coke he's done or how many people's he's had . . . the thought is sour. He's in a bit of a perpetual bad mood. It combines well with his branding. GLDN. Gold on black, that's his theme. He's got his EP almost ready to drop. Yuri sent him yesterday to pick up some pot from some contact and when Otabek came back there were plans, already, and tentative times and bookings for his release party.

Yuri put it the night before the concert.

"I can't do that," Otabek says. He would if his parents weren't coming, but since they've ranked this as so important (really, this is a once-in-a-blue-moon occasion; rarely did both his parents make it to his recitals back in Kazakhstan, rarely, even, one of them) he should at least make sure he's in top form as he can be.

"Well you are," Yuri says, clicking away at his laptop. He's got a loose tank on, black and orange. He gets up and swings his backpack (black and studded tastefully, some expensive brand) up. From the pile of messed-up shoes by the door he fishes a matching pair.

"I can't," Otabek says, and swallows, because it seems inappropriate to be contradicting Yuri. It seems out of place. There's an echo of Mila in the situation.

"If you want a release party, it's happening then. Michele hooked me up with Blu's underground site, yeah? We're blowing the fucking thing out. I'm doing whatever I want. I'm gonna have whatever I want. We're going big. Have you forgotten we're going back to Kazakhstan? They're not gonna let me do any of this fucking shit there. I'm going to have to live under their  _fucking_ thumbs and be a fucking perfect son again!"

Yuri's tirade is not really directed at Otabek. Otabek's sixth sense perks for a second. Yuri never talks about anything personal, never answers any  _whys_ surrounding his behavior, never gives justification, but this certainly has a personal flavor to it. But Otabek's not got much time to meditate.

"So you're fucking showing up!" Yuri's shouting and grabbing Otabek and shoving him hard, back against the wall. The back of Otabek's skull impacts and makes his ears ring as he's taken off guard. But then Yuri's slamming out the door.

Otabek closes his eyes.  _Mila._ Opens them.  _Yuri._ Switches timelines.

He's showing up, then. That's when his release party is. It wasn't a big deal at all. He's fine with it.

He needs something, alcohol, something, he doesn't know, because it's tried-and-true to take everything away for a short time. But increasingly, it's not enough. He needs more every time and he always feels like shit after. He didn't go to classes at all on Friday, and that probably directly correlated with the party the night before and the coke he did.

His jaw's still vaguely sore. He's haunted by the thought whoever it was will hunt him down. Unrealistic. His demons will do the job faster. His own nature will do it faster. He'll repeat the scenario. Given time. Sex isn't anything sacred to Yuri, and Yuri's ten-commandents-more-like-none are Otabek's now, aren't they?

Otabek has a small but sharp and glimmering inkling of what he's becoming. Of the downside to the upside. And maybe when everything wears off he feels it, too, the knowledge cuts him so he can see through to the blackness of everything he's done: but he can't sit with it, he'll cover it up again, golden.

GLDN.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

It's all come back. Of course it's all come back! What did he  _think_ was going to happen? Get away scot-free without his meds? No!

He's got to write up a lab report for circuits and he's  _trying_ to do that, he's in his room after helping with supper (like he's supposed to) but everything from the past days is catching up and roaring in his ears and he just had the last third-of-term test for statics and he squeezes his eyes shut because it's made his head hurt, everyone talking about it and what they did and didn't do and what  _he_ did or didn't do and if he got it right or not - if he got enough right or not-

\- but he's having a good time in his classes, he's doing well and he has friends and the profs like him and people ask him for advice which is really nice -

\- and he played really bad piano but Tiana was super impressed and so were Greg and Ardie -

\- but on Sunday morning Helen asked him about the floors he cleaned on Saturday,  _you didn't clean these floors yet did you?_ and now whenever Helen starts talking to him even before she's finished her sentence JJ starts panicking inside and it makes it that much harder to get the words out but he'd managed,  _yes,_ he did but Helen said,  _oh, it just didn't look like it,_ all passive, passive agressive! Isn't that what they call it? But it was true! They were dirtied up! And JJ had cleaned it really well, he knew, he told her, he was careful, he did a good job! Honest! But then he's afraid he sounded too defensive! It's just her kids are a mess! They ruined his good work! -

\- he wouldn't be so afraid of Helen (it's stupid he knows) if he weren't on his own here, if he weren't so alone and if Beka hadn't left him in the dust and if he knew anyone else in the city! Acquaintances - nothing wrong with them! But they can't come through for you! And JJ can't come through for himself, so what's he gonna do? - but life's good, it is, he shouldn't complain, his grades are good and his friends -

\- he's choking on the twin urge to laugh and cry, not knowing which of the feelings pushing out from inside him with too much strength - which feeling to choose! His head hurts. He hasn't been sleeping too well, tossing and turning -

"Circuits," he tells himself and he's scrolling through the lab report like he can't remember a thing. He can't! He panics! It's just like the statics test! He failed that test! Oh he must have failed it! He didn't know  _what_ he was doing! No, no, he  _did,_ at least more than everyone else! Why isn't Beka here? Why is Beka kissing up Yuri Plisetsky? Why is Beka a whole faculty away and worlds away, even, at least JJ's world away, too wide to cross? And why does Beka have the right to it, why's he so talented and good-looking and - well, good-hearted is what JJ is still  _sure_ is under everything - no,  _no,_ "stop being stupid," JJ tells himself, "He doesn't love you anymore -" But the words have come out too suddenly and he slaps his laptop closed and grabs his pillow and smothers his face into it because he doesn't want to cry and he doesn't want to scream -

\- he doesn't want to feel  _anything!_ But that's the problem! He's not got a choice! He wishes he could just turn his brain off whenever he wanted but he's not got a choice! His breaths come in starts and stops -

"You don't - actually mean it do you?" JJ says to Beka but -

\- but, he catches himself, because Beka's not there.

Something freezes JJ lucid.

He looks back to the wall and the space is just empty carpet, right, Beka's not there.

This - it's bad, it's what happened with - after - Jenay died, right? it was bad - and you know they just kind of thought it was normal, but it was more serious and that's when JJ had to go and see a psychologist and psychiatrist and the whole trouble with sorting out new meds and his normal ones and changing everthing -

\- but this isn't like that! That - that didn't just happen! JJ shakes his head and for some reason his lungs launch him into a stupid coughing fit. No, that didn't just happen! He's not bad off enough for that!

His lab report, now that's going to be bad off if he doesn't pull himself together and do that up.

He opens his laptop back up. He can hear the treadmill start going. Jacob running after work. JJ's shaking, hands at least. He bounces his leg, forcing himself to find the course name,  _click,_ Labs,  _click,_ Experiment 4,  _click._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Otabek finds himself making out with some girl who has a body that feels good under his hands. He's finished a set and joined the crowd and someone bought him shots as usual. Later on they're out by the pool and some girls are fighting. Then Otabek's in the water because . . . he doesn't know why. Someone's phone is in the pool. Someone . . . maybe it's the same girl . . . passes him something with her mouth and everyone laughs and then Yuri is with some guy . . . some guy who Otabek doesn't know and he really shouldn't feel jealous . . . why is the world spinning? It's entertaining, really. Otabek's warm even though the night is cold.

He never remembers too much when he wakes up the next morning. It might be at someone else's place. He might have done something he regrets. Apparently he did something he should regret. There's drama at university and someone blocks him, but he's GLDN, so no one blames him for much. He's got power, right? No one wants to get on his bad side.

There's only one person on his bad side, because he is his bad side, but he can quiet that with a drink or two.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

JJ can't breathe. He can't breathe because his head hurts! Or is it that? Is it the linear quiz tomorrow? Is it because he was late to class because he thought he hadn't locked the door,  _again,_ but he had, and then his awareness had all just blacked out again and when he synced back in to  _real time_ he didn't know where he was and was  _so so scared_ until he figured out it was the community garden and he was close to the train anyways? Or, or is it because there are posters in a fresh layer on the campus corkboards that scream  _GLDN,_ Otabek-who's-not-Otabek, GLDN's who's reaching for the stars in his reach and making his own album and having his own party? Is it because JJ stared at one and his engg friends stared at him, like,  _weird, keep moving,_ because some of them are catching on, he's paranoid someone's catching onto him - his own smiles stretch too bright across his face and his laughter rips forced through his own throat! Is it that? Is it that he talks to Beka but he knows Beka's not there and,  _damn it,_ Beka doesn't even exist, not Beka as he knew him? He can't breathe! He can't breathe!

Can he keep going like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter some climatic shit gonna happen yo thanks for sticking with my exhaustive narrative


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *like an echo of the phrase heard previously*  
> lel I was really joking myself thinking I could finish it all in one chapter  
> So have the precursor to the final

What's he gonna do for a summer job? He's sitting in linear and not listening. It's really hard to listen. Especially when a few kids a couple rows down and to his left are playing LoL and some brown kids are always way too loud, a group off to his right. Even if his ears can listen - which, yeah, he can pull off - his mind isn't. He hasn't heard back from any internship companies yet! He applied to some here but he's hoping he doesn't get anything because, well, if he's honest with himself he doesn't think he can keep living here alone! Even if he  _could_  find a different place to rent! Oh, fine! So maybe he's not as much a grown-up, self-sufficient whatever - he's staring at his notepad in front of him and somehow he's been populating it with whatever the prof's been writing on the doc cam. Ha! Nice! Autopilot pays off sometimes. Who knew taking notes could be an out-of-body experience? Well it is - for Jean-Jacques- _off-his-medications_ -Leroy!

Ardie shows him someone's Snapchat. JJ gives him a crack of a laugh even though he doesn't understand why it's funny. Sometimes JJ wonders if they're catching on. They have to be catching onto him! He's not going out as much, not being social outside of class; maybe in class he's trying to make up for it, talking and laughing and being louder than other people, being heard - jokes, jokes or just shitting about assignments and exams - exams! Exams are - exams start - well today is the last day of classes! They start in two days! Oh boy! Oh no! There's too much to do!

JJ's attention zones back in, quite luckily, on the doc cam projection. Example orthonormalization from the pracitce final. Half the class is off getting drunk today but not JJ and not some of his friends. Stupid! Drink  _after_ finals! Walking across the main quad you can hear the throb of music coming from the fields. Apparently they hired some student DJ to play. Apparently that DJ is having a release party the day - the day before JJ's last exam. Apparently half the posters on campus say that. Apparently even some of JJ's friends won't shut up about it. Apparently - apparently no one's caught on that GLDN is JJ's ex - well - well JJ hopes it goes well for him, with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

JJ needs a summer job. He needs to forge his own path. His mind wanders excitedly, not in a good way. Ten minutes till lecture's over. Several days till semester's over. See, he's made it!

Helen says her parents are coming so she'll be much too busy to do an inspection with JJ there. She'll do it after he's gone and send him the bill! JJ doesnt know what she'll find half-working and charge him for and he doesn't like not knowing! It makes him anxious till he's sick! Will she make him pay for the mini-fridge that smells bad because she left her rotting vegetables in there but, you know, they're not hers, they're JJs - well he doesn't buy that kind of food - well he doesn't buy food period - but some part of him is still uncertain because he does things he doesn't remember later now and - he can't trust himself! Will she make him pay for, for, - oh he doesn't know what! At least she'll be busy. When Bella comes to get JJ it won't be awkward. JJ's been telling Bella about everything. She doesn't like it, you know, and so it would be awkward if she stayed to visit and all. No, so good thing Helen will be busy.

JJ's hungry. He knows how to do the rest of the sample. He got 100% on the midterm! Quinn says he's smart. Quinn always does this kowtow kind of thing around JJ and JJ can't stop him from it.

Man he's hungry! But there wasn't any food to bring for a snack. Not really. That has a story: he burnt a mini-pizza in the microwave and despite cleaning the whole kitchen for 45 minutes to try and remove the smell he didn't sleep all night because he knew he was going to get in trouble for it.

He did.

Helen kept the plastic cover on the counter. When JJ was up helping with supper, she'd comment on it! She'd say, "I've washed it but the smell won't come out." She'd say, "I can smell it from over here." JJ couldn't. She wouldn't throw it out. JJ had felt something in him snap as he was washing a cucumber with the all-new faucet that they hadn't ended up charging him for but refused to tell him  _why_ they'd waived the obligation. He snapped! He said,  _"Please_ get a new one with my damage deposit," snarky, hard, - but Helen just said, "Oh no. I don't need one." She didn't need one! Then why the hell was she complaining?

Only cold food for JJ now, because he'd gotten in shit for leaving a mite of sauce splatter in the microwave before and he's not risking that again with no cover to stop it.

And maybe not even that, because Helen refuses to label her brats' food and will get angry when JJ accidentally takes it, and will repeatedly suggest he's using some of her kids' food while he's cooking for himself even though he's not, he's made  _sure,_ but she'll trip him all the same and make him question himself!

Then there was last Saturday night he made supper like she asked. It took him 3 hours! He needed that to study or sleep or try  _not_ to go insane but he did it, to keep the peace and - and all she had to say was, "Don't feel like you have to make supper for everyone," and he'd said  _but you asked me to,_ and she said she never did!

God, he really is going insane! He could swear she asked him! Didn't she?

And he feels  _so_ bad, so bad at the thought of asking Maman over text for more money on his card because it's infinitely easier to buy food than to eat what he's paying board for. He'll open the fridge but it's just a landmine of the passive-aggressive,  _oh, that was Thalia's lunch, did you take Kira's noodles? I was saving them for her._

In the end asking his parents for money is something he can't make himself do. So sometimes he just doesn't have food. Like now.

The long minute hand crawls towards the ten on the clock. Eventually the prof signals end of lecture and everyone gets up, so JJ has to get up to and try,  _try try try_ to bring his focus back in on the conversation and where everyone's going. To the Hollow! No, JJ's gotta study. That's all he has left to prove. End of linear. So it is the end. There's everything he has to know! Just pass the exam now! That's it. That's all that's left.

JJ calls goodbyes to friends as he splits off for the library. He wants to be alone. He wants to shut himself up in a box and let out all the nervous energy building up under his skin, layers upon layers. He's getting scared of himself. Does that make sense? Where is he? Oh, right, the library. He's stopped just in the middle between Camme Hall entrance and the admin building across the quad. How long has be been standing here for? Should he keep standing here? No!

He jolts back into motion towards the library. But then he realizes he's closer to the theatre block and it will probably be less busy in that one stairwell with a few study cubicles. That's best. He changes trajectory. His converse are scuffed and worn; he's wearing a Blue Jays varsity type tacket. He's trying his best to call up some sense of tunnel vision and just  _study._ Nothing else. No one else. There's no one he needs who's there for him so why bother wishing and wishing and  _wishing?_ (But he does.)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Did you hear there's going to be a scout from Julliard?"

"No, it's um, it's from the Conservatoire in France!"

"OK, I heard there are two spots!"

In the most recent practice, Yakov has announced that a scout will be present at the concert. No one listened to him (as usual at this point in the game) but Otabek was smart enough to lend an ear. Yes, there are two spots. And - Otabek had glanced at Yuri, in the stands talking to some pianist - one is as good as taken, judging from how rehearsals have been going. There's only one more left.

The other spot, Otabek muses, would look very nice with his name on it. He can pull it off. Why not? Release party the night before, concert the day of. He's thinking and talking with people at the same time. Letting them talk to him. He has the sort of status now that he can rudely zone out and come back into the conversation with some kind of general comment, or even no comment at all. He can do whatever he wants.

But he does what Yuri wants. Isn't that true? It's becoming more apparently true.

And, no matter what Otabek wants, part of him increasingly doesn't like it. Part of him eludes to thinking he's better than that.

He's always caught between needing and not liking it, but here he's more on one side of the spectrum than the other.

It's when he's puking in the bathroom and Yuri's playing scales. When he sits down with a glass of water and takeout in the kitchen, and Yuri doesn't once look his way despite cutting his skin open and fucking (with?) him last night. How they come together and apart at clubs and parties and then Otabek has to miss class or drop what he's doing because Yuri's got in shit with one of his sources for drugs and Otabek has to go instead. How Otabek's release party isn't his, really, it's Yuri's end-of-semester bash or crawl or brawl. This will be over, soon. Even if Otabek doesn't deserve it. Even if he does.

Classes are over. Otabek's got up; it's the following morning. He was hired to play for the festival out in the fields for the last day of classes, but he didn't do much more besides a couple cheap beers. He didn't run into to JJ there, good thing. Fuck, why's he still thinking about JJ? . . . Otabek's better than cheap beers anyways.

He's deciding between going to the gym and looking over the proofs for the banner that's going to be up at the release and practicing  _Still,_ not that he particularly wants to, but that he feels obliged. His parents will be there, after all. He doesn't seem to study as much anymore. That's fine. He's still looking at a GPA above 3.5. There  _is_ the scout, though, and the empty spot. He's keeping his desire for selection quiet, but it's eating at him. He should practice  _Still_. The plan is this: It's going to be over soon. Otabek will have accomplished his goal, even though he can't quite articulate what that is. There is some hope on the horizon; somewhere between the days and weeks he's lost his crusade to serve himself some kind of retribution, and what he deserves is better than worse; maybe he's believing what he's being fed, but on the other hand, maybe it's true. (When he's high, it's definitely true, and maybe that's why he likes being high.)

Maybe he can even serve Yuri a  _fuck off_ eventually.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

First final is chem. JJ would say he's not too worried. Up there - mentally - he knows he knows it. Right? He put in the hours! Oh thank god or whoever's still taking care of him that Helen's been in a good mood - well they're going to Disneyland! Funny how they trust him with the whole house to himself for 5 days! He's trying to be good with it. He's cleaning extra stuff before they come back just in case. He's going to be a nervous wreck around the time they come back. He doesn't know the exact time they're arriving, after all. In the meantime, JJ has to cook for himself. What if Helen gets bothered? What if she was saving the spaghetti for something? What if she walks in and ever-so-demurely says it smells like Clasico pasta sauce or something, huh? What if it does? What if it looks like someone  _lives_ here? Huh?! Sue him! Sue him for eating! Sue him for living-breathing _-existing_!

These thoughts are just as desperate as the speed he rifles through his mental archives for the answers to all the practice final questions. That's the plus of being off his meds. When his brain kicks up into high gear, everything goes into high gear, and sometimes he's lucky enough he'll blaze through calculations, feels like his mind's some kinda supercomputer or something, just follow the algorithms he's beaten into it for solving all these problems.

Of course, it's not really worth it in the end, will it, if he can't do much else besides  _sometimes be really good at math_?

But for now, for finals week, it's gotta be worth it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Otabek's not hungover or high, though he wants to be. He's sore and feeling exam pressure, despite the sinking obligation in his stomach that says he's too cool for that. He's in a much worse mood than this morning.

He gets back in the apartment at 9 p.m. after working out, after the final concert rehearsal. Yuri's got his feet on the small coffee table, some indie film on the TV HDMI'd to his laptop.

Otabek says something to the effect of,  _where's the stash of pot_  because he'd really like to zone out right now. He'd like to believe in himself. It's too much work to dig up the notion himself. As long as he can do well at the concert and nab the second scout spot, he'll fly back with his parents, golden wings all the way. All on the heels of the release party. All hinging on Yuri managing it . . . . He hopes JJ won't be at the concert, not to mention the release party, it doesn't need an RSVP, at least not the general floor; the thought's intrusive and Otabek curses himself for letting those intials so easily enter his frame of mind. He's better than this; he's paid for it and done his time, even if the habits stick painful to everything he's become. But Otabek can't quite  _believe_ it. Without his cause, is he only a shell now? He can't seem to put the same faith in everything going forward as he can in the certainty of the past.

Yuri's not answered him. He walks up to Otabek and knifes his hands under Otabek's jacket, under and around to his back. His fingers press and dig into, crawl up the deep scrapes he's left in Otabek's skin. From three nights ago - still hurts. What gig was that? Oh yeah, that one on 3rd avenue downtown. After Otabek had played, he drank and maybe consumed other things a little more illegal. Maybe he'd been followed out with a crowd and everyone partied in the lot until they were kicked out and then they went down to the river and more people came. Maybe Yuri got the Mercedes cleaned because someone had puked on it. Maybe he'd pulled Otabek inside and he'd played with him, some kind of sex toy, while anyone who wanted to watch watched, not that anyone did. And then there were more people; Otabek remembers the feeling of his hands on skin but he doesn't really know who's it was, who's mouth it was, who's drink it was, who was driving.

Yuri's kissing Otabek. Otabek can never quite figure out what the kisses mean. He doesn't want any of it. He pushes Yuri away. Yuri holds on and fixes him with those green, sharp eyes. Always so lucid, even when the pupils dilate from what he's snorted those nights.

"Nasaya's signing you," Yuri says.

Otabek takes a couple seconds to process this. He contacted Nasaya a couple weeks ago. Of his options for getting signed, it was them or B55 records. He preferred Nasaya, but no response, so his namesake EP's dropping with B55. Or it was going to.

"B55 already -" Otabek starts.

"I called them. Contract's off. Nasaya's gone through. They just want some promotion at the release. Oh, and that fucking new wave syndicate is gonna come and do a story, run something on their site." Yuri tosses his hair back from his face. His hands come up to other side of Otabek's face. "So let's do what I want."

Otabek should be happy Nasaya's coming through but apparently this has all been done without his consultation so he's really not that happy. He foully pushes Yuri off and makes for the hallway, but Yuri grabs him back by the collar of his jacket and pushes his head forward and runs his mouth and teeth down the backside of his neck.

Otabek's been trained for this, so it's hard to refuse. But he's in a bad mood, and that helps. He elbows Yuri off and jerks away.

"So fucking cocksure all of a sudden," Yuri says. "Get back here, Altin."

Yuri calls Otabek only when it's in third person. It's all Altin face-to-face. Or Yuri's-face-to-Otabek's-back as they currently stand.

Otabek closes his eyes.  _Mila._ Jumps timelines. Jumps back. Opens his eyes. Yuri's circled around in front of him and now viciously grabs him and shoves him hard, back against the wall, so his head snaps and he sees stars for a second.

"Think you can make something of yourself, huh? Think you're fucking boss now, huh? I own you, bitch."

"Yuri this is going to be  _over-_ " Otabek starts shouting back but Yuri's hit him, hit him full on across the face and Otabek stumbles to the side with his cheek and cheekbone smarting.

"It won't ever be fucking  _over!_ You'll remember this! You'll remember begging for me to fucking  _own_ you because you need it, because you know-" Otabek's now raised his face back up but Yuri pushes him down on his knees - " - because you fucking  _know_  you're beneath me!"

Otabek's not beneath anyone.  _He's got hope. He's lost the chains. He's done his time and found new life_  . . . but he can't believe it. He can't. Not right now. He has to do what Yuri wants, then. Maybe he'll believe later. He doesn't want, right now, to suck Yuri off, but he does - and then he's got come dripping off his lips and chin but Yuri tells him to kiss him. So Otabek does, almost, touching for a second and then Yuri hits him and knocks them down onto the floor, takes Otabek's shirt up with both hands, fingers spread, and pauses over the criscross of wounds that are the perfect mix of  _fresh_ and  _healing._ Yuri's wearing the cuff bracelet. Otabek's tasted his own blood on the metal before. Yuri likes that bracelet.

"Did you fucking forget what this was about?" Yuri says.

Otabek's trying not to think about anything at the moment. His body's responding but he's trying to sever the awareness. Oh, that must have been some naive dream, that he could ever say  _fuck off_ to Yuri Plisetsky. So much his better.

Yuri draws a sharp groan out of Otabek as he flips his wrist to the side and goes straight with the metal edges splitting open new-made skin. It's not like Yuri's ever nice. It's not like it's playing. Makes it seem like it might be because at the same time he's sitting on top of Otabek and grinding them together and Otabek has never wanted  _out_ so badly.

Did he forget what this was about? Yuri knows. Yuri knows how Otabek betrayed his family, he knows the dirty secrets, he knows, he's seen just how wasted Otabek was (not  _is!_ no, he won't let it be) to the guilt of what he did to his . . .

Another slice down his chest. Otabek just bites his lip, pressing his hips up though he doesn't want to, and Yuri leans in and tells him to kiss him again and Otabek does just so he won't make a noise. But then Yuri's jammed the metal piece forcefully up, up running  _up_  Otabek's ribs to lodge digging into his pec and Otabek half-screams into Yuri's mouth. Yuri breaks them apart and Otabek's gasping - no, this isn't play - he needs to see the wound, how bad is it -

But Yuri spreads his hand over Otabek's face and pushes his head back down to the floor, skull pressed against the thin carpet, still grinding them together, Yuri's trackpants and Otabek's jeans. Otabek's mind is hazy with pain and arousal. All the better he won't think of - he can't think of anything he's had before. He never does. He has to stifle himself from ever trying to create that shade of blue from all the other eyes in the room, even though he always fails, or  _prescisely_ because he always fails: he has to stop himself focusing his ears on every other soloist, hoping for some purity of tone and some sweetness he, of course, can only imagine, because if he were comparing it to something or someone else it would . . . It would mean he definitely has no hope.

As of yet, he hasn't been the one shooting up heroin in the washrooms.

He hasn't been the one fucking so many people that he has a reputation for it.

And he hasn't been the one failing most classes because getting wasted is the best kind of therapy.

So there has to be hope.

"Yuri -" Is that his voice? It is. All the friction is gone off his cock and he wants it back. His side hurts bad. His chest hurts bad. Yuri's choking him out. That lets off. He coughs.

"What do you want, Altin?" Yuri's tone is soft, in volume only.

Otabek struggles to push himself up but Yuri pins him down again. Otabek got just enough of a glimpse to see blood on his chest. His shirt's not even off, just ridden up enough. He wants Yuri - not really Yuri, just anything - back on his dick, to almost, almost get it over with now that it's started.

He knows Yuri won't give it to him how he wants it. He knows, after he's begged enough, eventually he'll be allowed the high but the next second he'll be alone and bruised and bleeding. So Otabek would still want out, if he were strong enough. If he were strong enough, he could take the pieces of himself and build his hope back up. As silent as the night and as deep as the sea, so would he be, if he were strong enough.

But he asks,  _begs_ , from a far away place that's still too close,  _fuck me._

Just a touch from Yuri, pulling down his jeans and his boxers, rough and fast, but then nothing, as Otabek's panting, and then a drag of the metal cuff back into the new wound and Otabek yells in pain. And it tapers off to desperation,  _fuck me Yuri, please, please._

What does it mean, if you're not even strong enough to not want what's bad for you?

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JJ's back in the stairwell because most of campus is swarming with people studying for finals. Chem went well, it's over and gone and now he's staring statics in the face. He's been here for a few hours. He's not sure if this is because he actually needs to study or because he hates -  _hates! -_ being at home. In the Lagrange's house, even if they're away. Maybe both. Two birds with one stone! But his mind wanders. But he can't keep all the FGHs and FIJs and FABCs straight on the trusses. He's frustrated with himself. He had a panic attack this morning. And yesterday evening. And maybe - well, it's getting hard to tell what's an attack and what's not because he always seems to be on the verge. Pressure! There's so much pressure! He needs to do well. At least, then, he won't have wasted - won't have wasted his time. One hand is in his hair and he's resting his elbow on the desk and trying to understand his writing sideways.

Noises from the ledge above. The stairway circles around and bottoms out in a few sparse rows of study cubicles.

"Sure, I can get your records cleaned up." There is a smirk in the tone. JJ knows this voice! The accent is unmistakable: it's Michele. Michele! JJ's sure it has to be. JJ's sitting at the cubicle that wouldn't be seen if you looked over the ledge. They don't know he's here!

"Even the minor shit," someone else says.

"Yes," Michele says.

JJ's very curious. Who's the other?

"And so what do I do?"

"Give me . . . some audience with Otabek. As host of the event, I would like to congratulate him on the release."

JJ sort of assumed Michele and his clique - terrible term, but true! - wouldn't opt in on anyone else's games! But this sounds fishy.

"Fine. What are you up to?"

"Just a toast. Maybe you'll let us have a word in after Otabek's in good spirits."

"I'll make sure."

"All the best at the concert, Yuri."

So that's it! Yuri! The tone matches instantly.

"Sure. I'm top of the scout's fucking list and you know it."

"Oh, I wouldn't hope for top position myself." The tone is a little mocking.

"There  _are_ only two."

"Definitely."

Foosteps retreat.

JJ lets out a breath. A toast? What? Before he can consider what he's doing, he's leaving his text and laptop and swinging his bag up on a shoulder as a pretense and heading up the stairs and hanging behind as Yuri and Michele split ways and then, then, he's tagging along at a safe distance behind Michele as he heads down the hallway past nursing. It's busier, this thoroughfare, lined with lockers and study tables. JJ hedges closer in the busyness as Michele stops briefly by one of the study benches and joins whoever's there, someone else in the clique. JJ swerves to occupy a just-vacated spot near enough he can snoop on the conversation. He sort of props his bag up as a wall if they want to glance over his way. But doesn't seem like Michele's bothering with being very secret in this part of campus; ambient foot traffic and chatter competes with JJ being able to hear.

"We're in. Yuri's agreed to it," Michele's saying to the other person.

Other person is a quiet talker! Damn! JJ can't pick up anything!

"Yes. And you can get us a toast?"

. . . . more words JJ can't make out.

"At least a day."

. . .

"Sure, two days. That's safer."

. . .

"Nothing irreversible," and a chortling laugh.

. . .

"He'll take it. He's so full of hot air he'll drink anything anyone pushes him that night. I guarantee it."

Then the talk moves to other matters regarding the concert, which is certainly what this is all about. JJ hedges on whether to move or stay. He doesn't want to be noticed now! Not that Michele would suspect anything! If they notice him JJ will pull off a  _good-riddance_ attitude. You know, a typical attitude regarding one's ex. One's ex who's left one behind. In the dust. Doesn't care anymore. JJ can pull off the same sort of attitude, right?

But he doesn't need to; Michele leaves and the other stays, and after a few minutes JJ gets up and heads back. Unnoticed.

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The Lagranges arrived back while JJ was studying downstairs the following day. Not really; he had his notes open but was really just trying to corral his brain from running away on him with various versions of  _when are they coming back? Did I do enough? Does everything look OK? What's this about Michele? What scout? I don't need to know! What toast? What drink? Are they back yet?_ He'd done a check of the house. He'd done a check again. Then after the commotion of the family's arrival died down, he picked up his courage and went upstairs to say hi and ask them how the trip went. He was shaking in his socks the whole time! Helen was upstairs. Jacob was more agreeable. Still! The girls swarmed him. They had pictures and cheap souvenirs and whatnot to show him. For some reason the girls love him! Kids love everyone, tch! But JJ's good with kids, right?

He knew, he could feel the smile fall off his face when Helen came down and JJ went into terror mode because he saw her looking around, he saw her looking in the kitchen, doing a sweep of the floors, and you know in the end she didn't say anything at all and she just said it was a busy trip but good and JJ went back downstairs and all the tension broke out of him by squeezing his lungs up and trimming his vision down and kicking his mind out of his body  _anyways,_ for a good few minutes! Helen didn't say anything! The problem's not with her! God, the problem's with JJ! He's miserable! He knew it all along! It couldn't be her! It's not anything!

When JJ gets his awareness back, he has to remember what day it is. What he's done. What the next final is. He wrote linear! He wrote statics! It's early afternoon. He can't stay around here. He decides to go on campus to study. Of course he'll have to come back to help Helen. He will. Oh, it's all his fault! It's all  _his_  problems! And then there's the problem of Michele and Yuri and whatnot he overheard! He doesn't know what to do about that either! He doesn't feel good at all. He doesn't feel certain of anything! Like all these recent hours he's spent  _doing_ and  _trying_ have no effect at all.

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JJ's on the bus home. He has to make it through another dinner full of intermittent crying from the girls and passing dishes to the people who need them and watching Jacob watch sports on the TV when he should really be focusing on his family. He doesn't think he can do it, again, increasingly. The burn on his hand is peeling off. He clutches the strap of his messenger bag white-knuckled. He ran into some classmates at uni! So he was sort of obliged to study with them! He held it together! Oh, man, he doesn't have the control he needs! When he's around them he knows he's got to be something he's not, but it just makes his mind blurry, punctuated by senseless sparks of urgency and panic, or by moments of senseless laughter and some harsh sort of false brightness.

Quite suddenly, JJ's aware he's standing somewhere he doesn't remember walking to. Oh, no! Does that mean he - what does that mean? Where's Bek- no, no, JJ's looked around backwards because maybe - but he's not there - he's in front of a door and he goes white with panic because he doesn't know  _where_ he is or  _when_ he is -

Somehow, he manages to breathe again after some time. His consciousness falls to the backseat. Autopilot takes over.

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He's lying in his bed. In his bedroom. That won't be his soon and good riddance! Good riddance! But that thought doesn't make him any less a bundle of tension and nerves! His head hurts really bad! It's - it's dark and he swipes for his phone and there are the 3 missed calls and 4 unanswered texts from Bella. That makes his stomach twist a little guiltily. It's 3:30 a.m.

He bolts up in bed all of a sudden. What happened? Why's he here?

When he's taken enough time to figure it out, staring at his phone screen, pressing the unlock button every time the screen darkens, he shakily presses the phone icon next to Bella's name. He doesn't want to be alone right now. He knows he's worrying her, too. So it's a little selfish but it's ok.

"Jay! Finally! You've been ignoring me! Or did you lose your phone?"

Bella's voice sounds, static and all, too far away - but it's all he's got. Well, he couldn't look her in the eyes right now! She's picked up the call in the middle of the morning and for what? For what - what was JJ going to say again?

"Did you lose your phone? Jay? JJ?" Bella prompts. JJ just holds his phone hovering close to his ear. He intended to answer, that's right. He full-well intended to call up his smile, his act, the pretense that'll see him through,  _hey Bella! Sorry I was so busy, you know -_ but he can't. His throat's lodged shut. How's he supposed to tell her everything? How's he supposed to start to tell her everything?

"JJ," Bella's tone comes, softer, "You there?"

JJ finds his lips part but nothing comes out, or it's too quiet to be heard.

A sigh from Bella's end.

"Is it bad, Jay?" she says. And this is the tone that JJ was hoping to hear. Hoping not to hear! This he tells himself, but now he's clutching the phone like it's his antidote, he'll cling to this,  _someone who actually asks how he is without it being strung to something they want from him._

" _Yes_ ," he manages.

"C'mon, JJ, talk to me. You're good at talking. Hey, I have to get up early anyways. I'm all ears."

His throat feels like it's cording up. He's still got a million things to keep track of! He has to do more problems for statics! He's got to - he's got to do his laundry today preferably if he's to have time to start on the math practice final tomorrow morning and  _then_ he's gotta be normal, he's gotta make it  _without help (_ read: Beka), he's gotta not bend or break and stick it out -

"Jay, you all right? Hey, did you follow my advice? Have any of those friends turned into  _good_  friends yet?"

"No such luck," JJ chokes out finally, he takes a steadying breath. Every breath has to be a steadying breath these days. OK. He was going to tell her - "I was just coming home today - after studying - after uni - I went there today - I mean yesterday - and after I stepped off the bus I don't know what happened, it's like my mind turned off and then I was standing at the door of the house and I didn't know where I was going or what time it was and I started - you know - panicking - but I stopped myself and I checked the time and I went in the house and I'm supposed to do supper, right, but I went downstairs and I said I'd be back to Helen but my head hurt real bad and I was still confused and I had to lie down and I think I blacked out or something and now Helen thought - well I couldn't tell her - I woke up and it was evening and I stayed in my room and I barely slept because I knew she was going to be upset and now this morning I'm gonna have to explain that I just I fell asleep when she's going to ask me and - it's not  _true_ -"

"JJ, slow down, I can't understand you," Bella interrupts.

He gasps and his lungs throttle and eventually he can make words again: "I don't know how I'm doing it, I don't know how I'm still going to class Bella - well I know, school's good, I hate being here, I hate - I hate living here, they just want me to be perfect - I can't - I hate coming home every day Bella I  _HATE_ it!"

There's a shock of silence.

"I hope I didn't wake anyone up," JJ says, but it was more of a forced whisper than a yell and he hopes he's safe. He knows if he goes to uni today there's a good chance he'll have to walk to the station, instead of taking the bus, in the biting cold wind, because he'll lock the door but he won't assure himself enough of it, so he'll have to go back and check and then he make sure he  _knows_ he locked it but he'll have to - he'll absolutely have to go back and check again and he'll feel so fucking stupid but there is always the chance - because if he  _doesn't_ then - he's afraid - and so he'll miss the bus -

"You should move out," Bella says decisively.

"No!" JJ says with alarm. "Not this close. I can't anyways. I don't have a car and I don't know anyone - anymore - I gotta - I gotta stick with it! I just gotta make up classes so Helen'll let me stay late all the - all the time . . . "

"JJ, how often are you having attacks?" Bella asks bluntly.

JJ pulls the phone away from his ear to watch the call timer tick up for a few seconds. Puts it back up to his ear.

"Mostly every day," he says like he's reading it, reading it, though, off his own soul. "Lucky not at school."

"Jay . . . don't tell me you've quit your medication!"

"I didn't! I ran out! I was gonna get some! But - but I was too busy and -"

"JJ," Bella says, stretching out the syllables. She's reprimanding, she's horrified, she's sorrowful, but most of all, JJ knows she knew, and she's not surprised.

"I'm sorry," JJ cracks. He's already cracking. Been for a while.

"How long do they last?" Bella asks. "The attacks." Gathering symptoms. Maybe she can make him a remedy. Likely the one that's out of conceivable reach right now.

"I - I don't know, I don't time them!" JJ bursts out, and then relents, "Maybe . . . well . . . " His tone weakens. "It's really bad, B," is all he can say.

"Is it as bad as when . . . ?"

_. . . Jenay was dying._

"Maybe," JJ half-squeaks.  _I'm seeing stuff that's not there. Of course it's that bad!_

"Do you know what triggers it? You still remember the therapy you did, right? Can you work through the situations?"

"I don't know," JJ half-squeaks again.

And he doesn't know what will trigger it! Panic attacks, at least! It's terrifying! Didn't use to be like that before! Now, sometimes it's just the manic thought that he's actually going authentically  _insane!_ Sometimes nothing, he just suddenly can't breathe right. But every  _sometimes_ he reaches for Beka, and Beka's not there, at least not  _really_ there - even if he starts himself talking because he looks like he's there - and so panic keeps coming back for him, harder and longer.

He can't say:  _I feel so sick after, if I black out it's so fucking! terrifying!_ (JJ doesn't  _like_ to cuss, but it can't be helped, sometimes!)  _I don't know if I'm coming or going!_

So is it bad as when . . . ?

_Yes, yes Bella, it is, I need help, Bella, I need something I need someone -_

"OK, well, If you won't move out, you need to spend more time out of that house," Bella says. "You said school's good. If you 'make up' enough review sessions can you -"

"I have, I did," JJ blurts, cutting her off. "I mean I usually go to campus to study."

"Only to study?"

"Well, yes," JJ says after a pause. He tries to study. Sometimes it takes him a while to settle down. Sometimes he starts walking somewhere and forgets where he's going at a few points along the way. Sometime he wants to hide from everything and has to just focus on breathing instead of studying. But it  _is_ all in the name of studying.

"Have you been doing music at all? You gotta take breaks, you know."

"Yes, well - I take breaks but the practice rooms are over by music and - I can't go there." JJ nods to himself. "Because I might see - I might see all these people I used to know and anyways since the auditions they know I'm another failure and I've been passed over for - for Beka's new - who he has now - " This is the crushing blow. Hot tears burn JJ's eyes. "I can't see him! I can't see Beka! His posters are already up everywhere! I'll never get over it! I understand what he meant now! I understand Bella! When he left he said it'll never change-"

"Jay, Jay, Jay," Bella says over the phone as JJ's sobbing.

"I'm a mess, 'm a mess, sorry," JJ stutters, trying to reign himself in, not fully succeeding but settling for tears intermingled with words and half-stopped-up-breaths, "you know, B, I need him -  _still_ \- but all he does now is party and he's GLDN, the producer and everyone thinks he's so hardass kind of cool and he's rich and university-famous and he's having a release party and he's in the year-end concert - but he's - he's been a  _fucking JERK!_ "

"That's what I've been  _trying to tell you!_ " Bella agrees.

" _I know!_ " JJ almost howls, hoarse and strained still. " _He's such a fucking jerk,_ " JJ cries, he's crying, he's so gone, he's damned for what his heart won't let go of. "I need him. I need him Bella. But doesn't he care?"

Patient silence except for struggled sobs.

" . . . Why would he," JJ continues quietly, "Listen, B. Look at me. Look at - Yuri. The violinist. He's Beka's new guy, right? Yuri's the best soloist in the whole concert. No, but it's true. He's really good. He's top-rate. He plays piano better than me. He's Beka's old friend. And he's well-off, too, and he's well-adjusted you know? He has friends . . . Followers . . . He blows people off and they still crowd around him . . . he's so talented and he's going somewhere, and I'm . . . " JJ's very tired now.

"Jay, you need to sleep, lil' Leaf," Bella says in an admonishing tone. "And you need to call your parents, not just me."

"Don't call me lil' Leaf," JJ sighs, almost as if he's supposed to say that, "And I can't, they'll worry about me too much."

"At least text them."

"Fine."

"JJ, you need to take care of yourself. You  _always_ make excuses about your meds. You need to get real and put whatever macho excuse you've got in the trash, OK?"

"OK," JJ says, but he knows he's not got enough pieces of himself together to carry out that mountain of a task to get a prescription and get it filled.

When he hangs up and the screen flashes he just feels bad for taking Bella's time. Before he reminds himself, sure, she doesn't mind, but he wishes he could be more than he is right now.

He  _does_ text his parents, in the morning, so maybe they don't worry that he's not been sleeping at a good hour:

sorry i haven't called. been busy. things are tough but ok, its goin good. how's papa doing? is he resting up?

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Circuits final passes and JJ emerges alive. Well, as alive as he knows it to be! Only one more now! Only chem!

Leo's still walking out with JJ, out after everyone's split off. JJ has a few seconds' peace in the afterlull of the exam if he can get away from discussing what just happened for a while.

"Yea I dont need to fucking hear about everything I just did," Leo says with a slow laugh, scrolling through instagram. He's wearing a black casual shiny sort of jacket with some white-threaded details on the shoulder which JJ tries to trace with his eyes as they walk. JJ curls and uncurls his hands in his pockets.

"Did you know tomorrow night Michele's planning to sabotage Otabek out of the concert?" JJ blurts out.

"Who's Michele?" Leo says, sliding his phone back in his pocket and leaving it there.

JJ tells him what he overheard.

"Fuck man, tough luck for Otabek," Leo says. "Gonna spike his drink or something?"

"Yeah I guess."

All the trees are in full new green leaf by now. JJ doesn't need to go this way with Leo, to his beat-up truck in lot J, but he might as well.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Leo says after a bit. "I wasn't gonna go anyways to the release party, man. He's got way too famous on campus but it's, like, fucking cheap, you know?"

"Yeah I wasn't going to go either."

They get to Leo's truck and Leo opens the driver's side door, tosses his backpack in, takes a half-empty bottle of Coke out and downs a gulp, leaning against the cab. JJ makes a face at thought of lukewarm pop and then his brain remembers in two days he's got the last exam, chem, that will be the worst, it's weighted the most and he's gotta do well and let's see, even now _can he remember the special Ksp-_

"JJ. J. Something up with you?"

JJ stops - stops his leg bouncing and scuffing at the pavement, jerks himself too sharply to attention.

"What?"

Leo makes a dismissive gesture. "You're just weird. You know? I mean like, finals are the fucking worst but you're just off." He finishes the last bit of his pop. "Lately."

"Yeah I'm off my meds," JJ says ( _blurts_ ) and then he looks around but the closest people are a few parking lanes away. He looks back at Leo who's nodding.

"Oh yeah, that does it," he says and pulls out his phone, chucks the empty bottle back into the cab to leave both hands free to text.

JJ exhales very quietly.

Leo finishes his messaging. "So, you're not doing anything about Otabek and whoever?" Returning to the topic just like that. Like that! JJ's very grateful he doesn't have to explain himself more. He's grateful Leo doesn't care to that extent. Sometimes acquaintances are nice! In that respect.

JJ shakes his head. He can't say the dilemma hasn't been hanging over him. He wish he hadn't heard or followed Michele to hear more and he wishes maybe, he'd never met Beka - but that's not true, of course he doesn't wish that - but he wishes he could get rid of the instinct in him to do something about this. Though he's sure he can't make the right choice! Damned if he does and if he doesn't! Is this like that? No, maybe he can muster up what's left of himself and turn his back and it'll all turn out just fine, just fine -

"You know his family's coming from wherever the fuck it is," Leo says. "That's what Naomi said. JJ you here, man?"

"Sorry," JJ says. "What?" He heard Leo, but he didn't hear Leo.

"Otabek's family's gonna be at the concert. Fucking awkward if he doesn't show up."

"There's supposed to be a scout too," JJ says, "That's why Michele wants him out I think." Then he processes what Leo said. "What? His family?"

"Yeah," Leo says. "You still haven't said what you're going to do."

"I don't know! He's my ex!" JJ blurts and it's maybe louder than it should be.

Leo makes a "heh" noise in his throat. "I mean, if we fucking rescue him, then there's something he owes me, man, he'd know he's not so fucking great."

"We?" JJ says. He's not really friends with Leo! They hang out. Sure. JJ hangs out with lots of people! He's acquaintances with Leo. And Otabek IS his ex! No, no, no, he's going to do nothing! Otabek has clearly shown he thinks JJ's dirt now! He's got a shiny new boy and shiny new EP! Beka doesn't exist anymore, not as JJ knew him, so there's nothing to do, no where to intervene and no one to save! Beka doesn't exist! Only in JJ's head! Only because he keeps the idea alive and maybe - no, for sure - for sure he's so damned he still keeps him around and sees him and talks to the ghost- coping - something about coping - but _Beka doesn't exist!_

"What?"

Leo's squinting at JJ. JJ comes back to reality. Has he just said something?

"Nothing," JJ says. He's tired. "Chem in two days. I gotta study. Michele probably won't even pull it off anyway."

"Aw come on. It would be a fucking riot even to just go and watch. I might fucking go now," Leo says.

JJ's heading for the train station. "See ya," he tosses over his shoulder.

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JJ studies -- or, tries to keep his head reasonably attached to his body and avoid all contact with the Lagranges -- for a day, and his time ticks down. All the group chats are talking about is the con happening this weekend and GLDN's release party.

So the day after comes and he can't sleep because he has chem tomorrow and then he's got to move out. Everything's already in boxes. He's cleaned up everything -  _what will Helen find? What am I going to pay?_ \- at least she'll be busy with her parents, at least when Bella comes around to pick JJ up they can smile and nod and leave, she's coming  _tomorrow evening_ already, is it that close? - it's the day of the concert, too! JJ went upstairs to get the dishes he brought. Helen was in a good mood. She said JJ had brought more of that container. Was he sure he was taking enough? JJ couldn't remember. He was just happy Helen was in a good mood. Or so he thought - then she said the mattress had to be steam-cleaned or something! Well, it's about 24 hours until JJ leaves and he's caught off-guard because she knows he doesn't have a car and - and, well, she offers, ever so kindly: She'll have it cleaned after he's gone and send him the bill. Isn't that nice? JJ stutters out a thank-you and blitzes out of her sight. Off and running! Why! Why?! It's not even dirty! Oh, he'll pay  _anything_ to get out of here! He doesn't care anymore! At least his finals are going well. He has some hope if he can nab good marks, maybe he'll get a scholarship to keep going.

He  _does_ have a summer gig working at a kids' camp back home -  _real_ home. But it's not going to pay for another year of uni. So he needs a scholarship again. But finals are going well, and he's going in with a really nice average. As long as he's 15 points above everyone else, he's good! As long as he can get chem over with because, you know, it's weighted the most!

He doesn't care anymore about Helen and the Lagranges, at least nothing beyond a superficiality of paying his dues and then jumping ship. And he doesn't care anymore about his ex, and Leo can go laugh at GLDN maybe-or-maybe-not getting knocked out of the all-important scouted year-end concert tomorrow. No reason for JJ to care, much less get involved!

Then how come at 10:05 p.m. he's rushing to pull on his shoes and a jacket and his transit pass and he's out and gone on the next train to  _the-Under-on-11th_ , and how come he's texting Leo, and how come - how come he can't let go of the smell or sights or sounds or feel of  _Otabek Altin_ that he had, so real, so much  _more_ real, last semester? How come they still linger like an echo, an echo,  _comme un écho de la phrase entendue précedemment_?

There must be a reason, and JJ's going to damn well find out tonight if it really  _is_ because he's just a damned bleeding heart or if there's something more to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some of this shit I've had written for a couple months and sitting around. i apologize if there are tense changes or slight inconsistencies because of my extremely non-linear approach to writing this fic this time around.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry it's been so long. Classes ended yesterday and I guess between going to school and back I have written enough for a chapter.

He's standing with a fist white-knuckled curled around one of the loops from the bars lining the train car on either side, pulling as if he could lift himself up just from this one arm. He sways as the car rattles along the tracks. He has his phone out with the location pegged; he, as the blue dot, inches closer to the next junction that'll get him there. He texted Leo. Leo didn't reply. Maybe Leo's not going. Maybe Leo's already drunk!

Man, he's hungry. Suddenly it hits him like a wave. Not just that. The mental sledgehammer that he's running on low. Sort of doubles over with the shock, almost like his knees give out on him but he holds on. How long? How much  _longer?!_ Running on almost empty. He has his last final tomorrow. Then the day after he's out of here. But it's not going to be  _just like that,_ back to normal. If he even gets to  _the-day-after-that_. The arm that holds him up, suspended, shakes. Out of his other hand his phone drops. He stares at it on the floor of the train car. Maybe there are eyes on his back, maybe not. He's hungry and he's petrified of what Helen's gonna do before he goes and how he'll even get out of there - leaving should be easy - he's petrified though - if his grades come through or not cause his life's in shambles and his grip on his consciousness and emotions and even his own physiology is extremely lacking as of late, even, right now! His mind's always running, always going, sapping his resources, what little he's got left, shakes and panic and not knowing  _anything,_ because if you don't know what you don't know you really don't know anything. Oh god, he's not doing well! He's not doing well at all! And he realizes, he realizes right now, that - Beka, yeah, he keeps seeing Beka, hearing Beka out of the corner of his eye and his mind ( _mind's eye_ is especially fitting!) - he realizes that his parents and Bella are gonna know and it's not like he can bounce back like that, snap! Not like Bella'll pick him up and they'll go hiking like they planned, stop at the lodge on the way back - no, he's not even in any shape to complete the mere physical task. He could, but he wouldn't be any sort of fun! Oh, he'll let her down! Where's Beka? He needs him! He's always needed him, damn it!

What he's doing now is incredibly clearly a terrible life choice. Despite the sick feeling in his stomach that settles in on top of the nothing that's in there, despite that, he can only grip the loop tighter and squeeze his eyes shut and - well, he couldn't go back if he wanted to.

There's only a couple other people on the train, at the other end of the car, facing the other way. Inside JJ's breaking down. He squeezes his eyes shut still and feels his grip on the loop shake and his eyes prick with tears. Why, he doesn't really know. Why?! His phone is still sitting on the floor of the train, as if he has all of eternity to pick it up. He wants to sublimate.  _Boom, fwoosh,_ pick your onomatopoeia, solid to vapor then, if he were king of all matter, to nothing! Just energy! Energy is useless anyways, if it doesn't do anything for you, and JJ's not doing anything for anyone right now, least of all himself! He's just some cage for a bursting urgency, a volatile mix of needs met and unmet, and he's slave to some instinct that's the worst combination of his mind and his heart.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Otabek has to go to his own release party, right? Wouldn't be anything without him.

He arrives on the Harley, Yuri's arms latched around him as they roar down the Trail.

When they pull up to the corner building that leads to the Under it's pretty inconspicuous, except for two vertical gold-on-black banners hanging straight on either side of the entrance announcing tonight's event. As they walk in through the doors and into the hall there's a crew getting ready to set up queue lines.

Yuri leads the way. They did have to be somewhat early for Otabek to set up his stuff. Which is here already. Yuri took care of that.

Down the stairs and out into the main dance floor. It's not a trashy clubspace. The floor gleams black and Otabek looks up at the high ceiling; half-panelled industrial chic vibe, strobes not on yet, lightbulbs in fancy metal cages dangling from wires. Then there's the bar with its curved front and a lighted stock, staff getting ready - looks like Yuri sourced from eager classmates because there's that other violinist. She finger-waves both Yuri and Otabek with a wink for one of them as they walk in.

Otabek can't lie. He'll take the attention. He'll take it, tonight.

Then there's the stage. It's elevated a bit more than Otabek's used to. There's a backlit screen and stacks of lights bulbously growing up in front, tall speakers striated vertical on the walls beside. The live audio company contracted for the event is messing with wires, connections. Others are doing more setup; again, some people Otabek vaguely recognizes. One guy comes up and shakes his hand with a clasp, as if they're almost friends, greeting the headlining act. He's a double major in some sort of electrical application, Otabek thinks, as his gaze wanders to the side wall which is emblazoned with the letters GLDN. Dark now, but just wait.

There's a staircase up to a VIP area and a seating area with couches too, to the other side of the dance floor.

Maybe leaving it all to Yuri wasn't such a bad idea.

Otabek zones back in on the sound tech who takes him up the stage. They've got the rough setup out. Otabek sets on booting everything up; he has his laptop with him, all he brought, pulls that out.

Sound checks follow soon. There's a problem with the channels and Otabek and the sound crew figure it out. Everyone is weirdly reverent of Otabek. Though, as Otabek reconsiders, maybe it isn't so weird. He is GLDN, after all.

Soon there's some reporter coming in. Otabek talks to her about the EP. He makes up some bullshit about what inspired it. Makes it sound edgier than it is. Using catchwords. What inspired it? He says stuff about the culture clash, references the artists who he does actually listen to. The interviewer says that he brings a fresh, heavier sound to the genre. She asks him what changed from his previous solo releases that have been featured on popular youtube channels; they were more "melodically inclined". Otabek stiffens because he knows it's obvious but no one has commented on it yet. Well, if she wanted juicy details, she's getting none. Otabek passes off a reply that implies he redirected the effort elsewhere. But she presses on. She refers to his musical education and asks him why he deviated from the "more intellectual compositions" pre-EP. Why is she so nosy? Is she insulting him at his own event? Otabek knows she's not. She's not the problem. But doesn't change the fact she's making Otabek think about things he's done thinking about. Otabek, luckily, can give her a short answer and promise he'll continue later, because Michele walks in. Otabek knows that Yuri went though Michele for getting the place.

The men shake hands. Michele's in a suit.

"Better dressed than me," Otabek jokes shortly.

"An EP launch is quite the occasion. Congrats," Michele returns. "I should make sure we have a bouncer in the hall to the back room. Did Yuri show you yet?"

Otabek shakes his head. Michele nods a "follow me" at him and Otabek follows Michele's odd slightly slanted gait over the dark, smooth dance floor.

Michele's not bad. He's competition for the scout tomorrow, no doubt. But come what may. This is Otabek's night.

Soon, people start coming in. Lights go on; Otabek doesn't feel like showing any special attention to any earlybirds so he retreats to the back room. Posted something to instagram about the occasion and now he's just savoring the moment. Maybe it's the first time in a long time he's felt genuinely good without drugs or alcohol or any of that shit.

Yuri bangs into the room. He's wearing expensive jeans and an expensive shirt, v-neck ripped. He's got molly, and Otabek's nervous system lights up to see it, but Yuri tosses it on the low table. "Later," Yuri says, and Otabek agrees anyways, he should make it through the set and the media that show up to ask him things.

Yuri slides the lock shut on the door. Muffled noise comes through, bass of a beat, cuts out in the buildups, smacks back for the drop. Opted not to hire a opening act. Instead the preshow is a bunch of GLDN remixes, precursor to his originals.

Otabek ends up jerking Yuri off. Yuri ends up jerking Otabek off. Ruins his pants, but Yuri's got extra clothes lying on the other leather couch opposite from the one they're sprawled on now. Then Otabek changes and sucks Yuri off again and Yuri kicks him out to go play his set.

It doesn't matter that Yuri owns him, does it? Yuri doesn't own him. At least, not in this moment, as he slides behind his deck and the crowd roars.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

The banners outside the club are larger-than-life. JJ's been to clubs, sure, but only because - well, only because of dead-and-gone Beka, and this is his rebirth now, the bass jamming up through the soles of JJ's shoes, the bouncers at the ropes JJ has to show his ID to as he brushes past some sleek BMWs and a Mercedes along the curb. JJ likes bars better. Bars are more his thing, cause they have good food. He'd go for any food right now, 'cept he's too - too strung out on his own mind to think of anything else. Is he really thinking? Definitely not! He shouldn't be here! He goes inside. The music is loud, the dance floor is full; he doesn't have to forge through the crowd much because Leo's texted him back and comes to find him.

"Yo let's go to my truck so we plan this shit out," Leo says in a conspirational tone, which is a half-shout in the atmosphere already filling JJ's ears and beating up through his feet, the smell of people and the shoulder-brushes as he moves through the crowd. JJ nods and follows Leo (he's wearing a loose red-on-red accented jacket, plain black shirt, hair messily tied back, looks in-place as ever). "Already saw Michele and his gang," Leo says over his shoulder but there's no point in replying.

JJ gets an idea of the exit they're heading towards and just takes one backward glance at the stage and the walls beside. GLDN flashes in stripes with golden lights and Otabek's playing his set and there are bouncers in front of him and a trippy visual screen behind him and people with their phones up and waving and dancing and JJ squints his eyes shut  _real hard_ for a millisecond or two like he could change reality. But this is it! And this is all he's got! Him and the filled space between  _the new Otabek,_ GLDN-not-Beka, however you want to call this image. Is it real? Maybe that's what JJ wants to find out!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The evening is as good as the red carpet. Otabek's swarmed with attention. He has people offering him stuff. Reduced to  _stuff_ because the first few things were drinks and his vocabulary isn't there for him anymore.

Sitting at the blue overlit bar counter, bodies on either side of him, but Yuri's gone. He dismisses one of the girls as Michele slides in beside him. Otabek has one more set planned but he'll get to that later. The dance floor is still full and everyone is having a good time, Otabek included.

Both men swivel to face each other.  _Michele better have something nice to say_ , Otabek thinks, train of thought wafting to tomorrow briefly, but he has nothing to be concerned about. Michele has been nothing but pleasant. Already he's opened himself up to being somewhat of a contractor for GLDN. And that's a wise idea, hm? A good investment in a rising star. That's who Otabek is, tonight, and it seems for the future as well. Yuri's usually not far at any event Otabek plays, but he seems to have vanished for now. Otabek's confidence grows higher, warmed by alcohol and maybe even more, the knowledge that he's the focal point of the night and that he deserves it.

Michele has got a silver-labelled bottle in his hands and pours Otabek a shot glass, saying (or rather half-shouting over the noise),

"You know, this is a good night for both of us, whatever happens tomorrow."

Otabek has to turn aside to someone pushing through the crowd with her friends. They bought the limited edition vinyls and Otabek signs them in golden Sharpie. Club lights glancing from every angle, you can't really tell the color, especially in the blue lighting circling over the bar counter, except that the writing flashes and reflects the light.

Fans momentarily dismissed, after a snap for whoever's Insta, Otabek turns back to Michele. He takes the shot glass, remarking, "I'm sure you've got your eyes on the scout's eyes."

Michele has his own shot glass. They both sit on the bar stools pivoted towards each other. Otabek can see himself not too long from now, in venues bigger, brand spread wider, higher than now. And there was a time he never thought he'd be here. Or that he didn't deserve to be. Well, things have changed.

"I know we both do. But I'll just toast the moment. To this night of yours," Michele says and they give their glasses an inaudible clink in all the noise; the beat and bass Otabek knows so well and crafted himself is like an immersive, permissive sea that has the night engulfed, claimed as his without words. Michele's intent on Otabek though Otabek doesn't see it as strange, just fitting, as he withdraws his reach to bring the glass to his -

\- but  _SMASH,_ the glass is smacked down and shattered violently on the bar counter, contents spray and shards fly, by someone's knuckled fist and swinging into his vision is the person who made the absurb leap and is now righting himself.

The man is tall and fixes Otabek with a look, swings back to Michele, looks back at Otabek. It's not the mindless adoring gaze Otabek's been thriving off all night, no laughing, no festivity.

Somehow even in the blue lights his eyes ( _his:_ the most well-defined use of the pronoun) are bluer still.

Instinctual and natural fury boils up in Otabek and he half-slides off his stool even as Michele's yelling from the other side of the intruder, for him to move himself or else  _security!_

"What the fuck-" Otabek's exploding, but JJ -  _of course it's JJ_ \- points at Michele and yells at Otabek over the noise even as heads turn,

"He's trying to sabotage you!"

How the fuck - why the fuck - Otabek's just furious and wants JJ out,  _"get out!"_ \- he manages to form the fierce imperative -, checks over his shoulder for bouncers struggling through the thick crowd -  _where's Yuri?!_ \- but when he looks back there's Leo, Leo struggling with one of Michele's closely held clique members for possession of - it soon becomes clear as bodies part to pave the way for Otabek's line of vision - for possession of the silver-labelled bottle Michele poured the toasts from.

Michele himself is standing, still yelling at JJ, "Get out or security will move you!  _Security!_ " But Otabek doesn't want that kind of thing happening even if they could get here in time. Leo's wrestled the bottle from the man who had it and shoves through the rest of the crowd separating them to arrive panting by JJ, who's arguing with Michele and got his hand protectively covering the fist he smashed Otabek's glass with, folded to his chest. Michele angrily and yet somehow smugly downs his shot glass and yells more at the two intruders, shaking the empty glass as proof, but JJ grabs it from him out of midair, plunks it down on the counter and Leo lunges to fill it from his swiped bottle.

Otabek moves in even as he feels the crowd around focus on them, the disturbance large enough that everyone wants to watch (and no one wants any security staff to take their viewing position).

Leo and JJ are yelling at Michele and Michele is yelling back and Otabek elbows his way between Leo and JJ, shoving them aside. "Just drink it," Otabek says, then nails Leo and JJ with the blackest look he can because  _how dare they pull shit like this tonight of all nights._ He lays down the law as the second half of the clause: "And then you get OUT!"

He crosses his arms and waits for Michele to down it but Michele's spluttering, "Changed the bottles! Now they're trying to poison me!"

"Neither of them have a spot in the concert tomorrow," Otabek grits at his paranoid contact, grabbing the bottle himself and shaking it at Michele, "It's the same one, just drink it."

But Michele keeps spluttering and yelling for security for JJ and Leo and Leo starts yelling back, "Drink your fucking poison, asshole!" and in a few sure seconds, as Otabek's got his hand wrapped around the smooth coolness of the bottle - which is hardly full although Michele popped the cork out as if it were brand new - and his name in lights behind him, the night decked out in his reputation - in these few sure seconds that pass, lengthening the interval of Michele's hesitation, Otabek feels the world under his feet shift.

His brow gathers.

He takes the glass from Leo and sniffs it; nothing smells off; he holds it right to Michele's face. Michele flinches. Leo and JJ stop yelling because Michele stops yelling. Otabek can feel the crushing attention of the surrounding crowd. It's still loud with music and talk and festivities but the microenvironment right here is slightly more muffled.

Otabek rebels against his inner shred of doubt for a moment. It smells fine. He just wants to get on with the evening. He just wants JJ to  _get the fuck out of his life_. So he goes to drink it himself since Michele won't, at least take a sip, but no sooner has he got the glass  _en route_ to his lips than JJ has almost preemptively snatched it out of his grip, liquid sploshing out and over the rim.

"The fuck!" Otabek explodes at JJ. Like some crazy time loop, JJ just passes the glass to Leo who plunks it down on the counter and, grabbing the bottle from Otabek, tops the glass up and shoves it back at Michele. Michele yells for security; Leo yells at Michele. Otabek closes his eyes and tries to find a good escape from this situation -  _where the fuck is Yuri?!_ \- when who struggles out of the (still half-dancing and half-drinking but now thick with a spreading attention) crowd but:

"What are doing here?!" Sara exclaims at the two intruders. She's wearing a leather crop top with her black hair up in a high pony. Otabek looks at Michele as Michele looks at her. Leo jumps to the explanation.

"Your brother-"

"My brother's in the concert tomorrow and you two aren't!" she exclaims, half-aghast. "And you're accusing him of what?!" She grabs the glass that Leo's trying to force on Michele. "He can be a dick but not like this!"

Otabek begins to read a reveal on Michele's face - Leo and JJ share a look - and Michele begins to move to his sister, lips opening throat straining with an exclamation but Sara's taken the glass and downed it before anyone does anything.

Immediately, as immediately as can be, as Michele seems to freeze in the middle of his unintelligible but urgent action (but urgency tells all) Sara starts coughing, faces contorts, making strangled noises.

Michele turns over his shoulder to yell at one of his clique "What the hell, Denis?!" then goes to try and assist his sister but she, making noises and grabbing at her throat with a hand as if that will do much good, stumbles and swats him angrily.

"Michele," Otabek says in the moment that's on edge as their gazes meet (and Michele's face is clear with shrinking anger), "what the  _fuck_?" Otabek glances to Leo and JJ, who are standing there at the edge of the crowd looking unsure of what now - now the security staff are closer, more and more of the people merrymaking seem to notice Sara and the scene and a couple of Sara's friends rush to her aid as she coughs and coughs, one of them calling for water. They displace Michele's attendance and Otabek suprises himself by taking the two quick paces to the venue contractor, grabbing him by his suit lapels and yelling hot in his face, "What the hell?!  _What the hell was that?!"_

Michele pushes Otabek off, expression filled with unjustified anger. Otabek just grabs the bottle from Leo standing there awkwardly. He shakes it. "The hell is this?!  _The fuck!"_ Otabek can feel heat in his cheeks and he's loose enough to let his anger out, though he shouldn't. He looks back at Sara, still coughing eyes watering, and back at Michele.

"This means nothing! All of this!" Michele explodes at Otabek. "It's just a cheap fucking trick! A popularity game and you think you're so high above everyone, don't you, barely trying in class, drinking and shooting up and pulling grades out of your ass?!" Michele grabs the bottle back from Otabek. "Anyone who thinks you're something is an idiot! You're a fucking idiot even if I could make money off you!" Michele storms. "You don't deserve any of this!"

Otabek freezes from the inside because  _fuck_  if that isn't the statement he's been choking from the inside, or trying to - Michele lashes out and hurls the wine bottle over the bar counter. Barista ducks and it  _SMASHES_ into other bottles and glasses stacked and hanging, loud enough finally to announce something more important happening over the music.

In Otabek's ears  _you don't deserve any of this!_ still rings louder and he needs to refute Michele, take back this night, it's his night, he's in control -  _where's Yuri?!_

"It looks like everyone loves you, but they don't," Michele snarls, shoving Otabek with both hands as finally security arrives and someone turns the music off and Sara's still coughing but who does security listen to? - rather unclear - but Michele steps back, it's him who backs down.

Otabek doesn't need anyone to love him. So he doesn't care if this is all a lie. It's a lie, for that purpose. Because he can't have anyone love him. Can he? Where's Yuri? Yuri hired security. Sara's still coughing (or hoarse straining to breathe, more like) and security conveniently divert to helping the injured. "Where's Yuri?" Otabek says. Michele curls his lip. People are filming now. Otabek's eyes align thenselves to JJ's gaze, JJ, as it looks like he's going to sink away into the crowd. The prize Otabek will never have. Why? Because of all of this fucking shit.

Michele's groupies are regathering in the tension of yelling and talking and noise without music and the crowd's moving, not leaving yet, not most of them at least, but the night is irreparably lost, Otabek's sinking stomach tells him.

"He made a deal with your new boy," JJ says, nodding at Michele, and if JJ's face isn't that fucking pained look, the same one Otabek hates to see because he'd rather be stabbed than pitied -  _wait, made a deal with_ \- with  _Yuri?!_

Who comes up out of the crowd just then.

"Michele!" is what he says first. "Get the fuck outta here!"

Otabek turns to the blonde. "Hey! You were the one who let him in!" They part just to let Sara, supported by friends and surrounded by the squad of security personnel, march out. Then Otabek resumes, "Is this your idea?"

Yuri smirks indignantly with narrowed eyes: "No, it-"

"-He wanted someone to clean up all the mistakes he's been making and he was willing to trade that for your wellbeing," Michele interrupts mockingly.

"Knew you weren't dumb enough to fall for it," Yuri says to Otabek, a defense derived from the situation, likely. Well it has to be. Because Otabek was dumb enough. High on himself enough. If he's honest, he's a shaken with the close call, a tingling fright.

Michele's on the move. He and his clique horde right for JJ and Leo. Anger better directed there, source of the problem. Shouts and chasing as they take off throws the crowd into chaos - security reenters the scene -

All of a sudden the couple staff standing behind the counter on their phones jump as the broken swatch of glassware and alcohol grows into an air-fueled blaze that claws up and blooms out. Someone must've been smoking. This is the ultimate signal and the crowd frenzies for an exit. Suddenly Otabek's status as GLDN doesn't seem to mean anything as everything around him becomes a frenzy. Yuri's gone again and Otabek's got to decide fast what he wants to do.

Shouts and screaming compete with the stampeding of the crowd, fighting to force out the emergency exits at the back and the front doors the other way - Otabek's equipment! but the fire blazes along the shelves of alcohol and flammable gold accents striped around the bar counter, wires and lights heating and shattering and he has to get out of here - suddenly there are two bouncers at his back, telling him " _this way"_ amidst the press of bodies and Otabek at least has this guide among the throes of people half-drunk, panicked and fleeing - or pressing back the other way stopping traffic to recover dropped phones. Otabek's maybe just as panicked, but it's worse, because it's much more than just the fire, it's the very real betrayal - but can you call it a betrayal if you were never really friends? - and why the fuck JJ,  _JJ and Leo_ of all people - why the fuck Otabek himself - the sensory input all around him, chaos, screaming and yelling, lights going out to be replaced by the fire, smoke in the air, all erase his ability to process anything and finish a coherent thought.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

"Run, man!" Leo yells as soon as Michele's pack turns on him and JJ. Sure, they had done it! - stopped Michele's plan! - but any kind of satisfaction JJ was hoping for didn't present itself. All he got (besides busted knuckles which burn painfully) was a knot of confusion in his stomach as he watched Otabek watch Michele watch Sara and he felt bad for not stopping Sara but well - and then Michele threw the bottle and everything lit on fire but all JJ had time to do was tell Otabek that his precious violinist was part to blame and now he's gotta push through the crowd, shouldering and shoving, at a staggered run through the gel of all these people, losing Leo but feeling Michele's clique at his back. The tide turns the same way he's heading soon enough - accidentally spilling someone's drink, "sorry! Sorry!" - sorry for a lot more than just that! - as the threat of the fire becomes universally apparent and smoke chokes down the party. He hopes he's going the right way! Where's Leo? Leo was filming the whole thing - with JJ's phone cause Leo's own camera lens is busted- they'll need that for proof in case of anything - where's the exit? Lights are going off and someone pulls the alarm, apparently, because a screaming series of long beeps starts to puncture the air. JJ just pushes ahead! Finally a temperature shift, breeze above his head, waft of clean air signals he's made it out in the back parking lot, which is,  _oh hell,_ already filled with pairs of headlights pointed every which way, honking, islands trapped in the sea of people, shouting, confusion - JJ just wants to shut his eyes and his ears and shut down but the pure panic of the moment keeps him going cause he's gotta find Leo and - swipes a shoulder-check quickly, there's one of Michele's men coming for him - so he keeps pushing on in the general direction of Leo's truck. For the next what feels like five minutes but is probably only one he's swiping by skin and shiny clothes and car doors and stumbling through constricted ever-moving paths of bodies, but the gradient of crowding decreases and his lungs finally get some reward for how hard they're working, pumping for breath, as the crowd thins and approaching sirens crescendo. JJ looks around, trying to pinpoint Leo's truck, but it's his ears that alert him from Leo yelling - he looks and Leo's jumping and waving - just in time, too, because Michele and three or so of his clique have ruptured out of the thick crowd right after JJ. He breaks into a sprint again - horn blasts as a backing-out BMW almost knocks him over but he skids and stays upright and keeps going.

"The phone!" JJ yells. As long as Leo has it they can get out of here! But then someone grabs him by the back of his hoodie! Swings him around, shoves him up -  _WHUMP_  - against another stationary idling vehicle. Driver of vehicle sticks his head out and yells, "Hey watch it!" as JJ's trying to catch the breath that's been knocked out of him and staring a nasty music faculty student in the face.

"I get a piece of him, get the other one Denis," Michele says and pulls Denis aside, giving JJ the chance to struggle himself free but only to be tripped up by someone else. He goes sprawling on the pavement, scrambling but someone pulls him up by his collar. Now JJ's angry! Or desperate! He didn't ask for this! It's not fair! All he wanted to do was tip Otabek off and leave! Ok, well, maybe watch and  _then_ leave! He didn't ask for this and he doesn't know what he's gotten himself into and JJ  _doesn't like not knowing!_ The club's smoking and fire crews are arriving and even as he comes level with Michele's face he receives some foreshadowing of violence and bars his own face with a forearm, receiving a healthy  _SMACK_ of a blow as Michele goes in with a punch. JJ stumbles back again.

"Fuck! Give your phone!" Michele yells at him angrily. Over at his truck Leo's struggling to get in but Denis has him intercepted. Leo doesn't deserve any of this either! He didn't even hear anything JJ didn't tell him! Oh man, JJ shouldn't have told him! He has to get him out of trouble! Even in the rush of the moment it's clear that Denis is trying to get Leo and his phone, well, JJ's phone.

"Leo! Catch, it's all recorded!" JJ yells, holding up the swapped android and making as if to throw it, but another one of Michele's partners in crime tackles him down and the phone goes spinning on pavement. JJ throws himself after it, clamping down on the object like it's a bomb he's gotta protect everyone from. Seems like Michele takes the bait as a foot stomps into his lower back and JJ bites his lip in pain.

"I'll take that," Michele says, but something diverts their attention: police, the real police, not contracted security, coming.

"Shit!" someone else says. JJ's pulled up roughly. Here come the cops, looking to divide Leo at his truck and JJ barbed in by Michele & co.

Squeal of tires and a Range Rover pulls up and Michele hisses at his clique, "get him in!" and somehow JJ's shoved in the back seat onto the floor and the whole group takes off before the police can see too closely what they're up to, lurching off with a speed unsafe for parking lot travel as JJ's slung with the momentum against the edge of the backseat, cramped and positioned awkwardly with Michele's gang pinning him down.

"What the hell guys, what do you want-" JJ starts as he's pretzeled up as a stowaway, still clinging to Leo's phone with a hand, as the vehicle rounds a corner and he goes slamming the other way.

Someone else is driving and Michele is in the passenger seat. He turns back and grabs JJ up by his shirt and JJ hits him off but ends of falling back against whoever else is in the backseat and they shove him against the back of the driver's seat and hands pry at his phone hand. How long does he play?! If he gives it up now will they look at it and figure out there's no actual evidence and then turn around and go back after Leo-

"You don't realize what you did, huh! Some kind of game? Piece of shit, you're not even in music and you think you can meddle in the scouted concert tomorrow hm?!" Michele's yelling and this awkward fight between front seat and backseat goes on and panic rises in JJ's throat as they accelerate and he has no clue what they're gonna do with him cause he can't keep squirming around, clubbing off grabby hands and kicking and getting kicked much longer!

"Fine, fine I'll give you the phone just let me off!" JJ yells but gets no respite.

"You think the stupid footage is gonna make me happy?" Michele's got a grip on JJ again. The Rover's taking some exit. "You don't realize what you did! The concert's my career! It's my life at stake!  _You're going to pay for that shit!_ "

"Hey but I mean if you're such a good vocalist you could still easily beat out Otabek tomorr-" that comment doesn't earn JJ any good favors, just a slap to the face and shove back until a heel or two are jammed between his shoulders and his head's smack against the bar under the seat. He's just kept pinned there while Michele and his crew talk heatedly back and forth for awhile, some of them speaking in snatches of Italian and French in turn, arguing about the concert tomorrow and getting "the other one" meaning Leo and JJ  _can't really breathe_ and his mind's running off on him again just when he needs it there - he needs his mind here for him right now, dammit - but then they're lurching a stop and really the lurching is all JJ can feel besides sudden concrete under his feet and a sudden half-breath of chilly night air out of the stuffy vehicle - he stumbles back, trying to will his lungs to work, but no, the problem's with his neurons that are shorting out. He doesn't need panic right now! It's sort of dark - half-lit, must be around a street corner somewhere or on a sidestreet - someone, probably Michele, runs him smack against a hard wall which  _certainly_ doesn't help with his breath he can't catch and knuckles collide with his cheek bone - he lashes back out in response and there are only some desperate moments of trying to evade by hitting back but, of course, outnumbered as he is, it's only a matter of seconds before he's trying to cover his head and  _run_ but before he can get away he's pinned back up on whatever wall it is again and Michele's hissing,

"You better hope tomorrow turns out well for me or there's more on your head," hot in his face and someone pries the phone from his hand,

"Fucking pathetic why would he defend his ex like that," this other voice says and all Michele says is,

"I  _don't care_ ," venomously; last words to JJ are: "You wouldn't tell anyone about this, hm? I would know anyone you confess to. That's why Otabek's violinist asked me for favors, right?" and they take off, leaving JJ,  _come on . . . still the concert_ is a shred of conversation before car doors slam and there's a  _crunching crack_ of Leo's phone after the engine revs. The concert-scout hopefuls take off.

JJ's throat is still closing up and he's still got tunnel vision from the adrenaline and, and, and  _and and and -_ this is all his thoughts are - this is all they can be - he's huddled and bracing himself against the side of whatever building, hands pressed to his face so all he can hear is his own struggled breaths and his face hurts and his shoulders and back hurt and - and, and and  _and and._ He needs to get control of himself. But it's not gonna happen by magic. He's so exhausted. He's so tired.  _So_ tired. Fatigued. His fingers feel wet, against his cheeks and eyelids scrunched shut.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Otabek catches just the tail lights of what he vaguely remembers is Michele's vehicle pulling out of the lot heading to the Trail exit, as he's fought to the edge of the crowd and waved off the bouncers.

He looks around desperately for any sign of JJ. Cops are coming in. More sirens; firetruck must be getting near. Then he spots Leo off a distance, standing as if slightly stunned by his beat-up truck.

There's something wild making Otabek's heart beat, pulling his muscles, feeling like he's in the dark of a sudden, like he's lost his compass and his guide. He's grabbed Leo. He's shaking Leo. "Where's JJ?!" he's yelling.

"Whoa, whoa - " Leo twists himself free, "Chill, Michele took off - I - think they got him - they uh - the cops came and I couldn't see - but -"

"They got him? They took JJ?"

"They - he has the phone, yeah? they think he has footage or -"

"Get in! Drive!" Otabek practically pushes Leo in. Leo scrambles to lodge himself in the driver's seat - here come the firetrucks off the main street and the area's suddenly crowded and Otabek's worried they won't be able to get out. But Leo turns the key to no response.

"Aw, shit, it does this sometimes man, it just needs a boost like every three weeks or so," Leo laments as there's just a  _click_ and the lights briefly flash on and off.

Otabek latches onto Leo's jacket and hauls him out from the passenger seat side.

"What the!" Leo yowls as Otabek slings them back into the night and jerks Leo after him. "I have legs!"

Otabek just sets off at a run, trusting Leo to follow (or not, he doesn't care). Now the crowd's thickening more at the outskirts and there are the firemen and policement trying to set up a perimeter and get people out and Otabek grabs his phone out of his pocket in readiness.

Reaching the sidewalk, he hairpins around the corner and dashes along the line of parked cars, looking for the Mercedes - Yuri said it was parked here - yes, a gleam of a streetlight along the sleek sidebody is all he needs for recognition.

Swiping open the app, Otabek shoves his phone at the door and the car  _beeps_ him entry.

When he guns the engine and pulls away, Leo's made it into passenger seat. What's a speed limit? Now's not the time to care.

"Do you know where they went?" Otabek says to Leo.

"Geez!" Leo's saying.

"Where did they go?" Otabek says.

"They pulled out onto - I mean, probably the Trail, but I don't know after that man!"

Trail it is.

"Look for them. Range Rover. Silver," Otabek orders.

"I know, I know!" Leo says.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

JJ's shaking. He can't stop. He's wandering outside of the mostly-closed shops. He doesn't know where he is. He could probably find out if his head was screwed on straight right now. But it's not. He's been so stupid! Now he's in a bind! Where is he? Is it important? Where does he go now? Is he downtown, 17th avenue? No! He can't be. He wasn't in the car for that long. Was he? How long has it been, even? He stops to stare at a lit yellow awning of a Chinese butcher shop that's closed. He stares and stares and gulps down breaths and feels his cheekbone pulse with a coming bruise and his back and knuckles smart and ache and his knee, and if he closes his eyes, the yellow of the awning shapes itself into the four letters GLDN and they flash, flash, flash inside his eyelids.

He opens his eyes and checks to see if he's floating away. He's not. He can see his feet on the ground. Guess he should keep walking. Why? Go and call someone. Call who? Leo, guess it is. But it's his fault Leo's in this mess! He can't ask Leo to pick him up after his wild, hare-brained plan has returned the force he put into it! But he doesn't know anyone else, not well enough anyways, to ask for  _this_ kind of help and he can't really - doesn't want anyone to see him like this -  _he has his last final exam tomorrow and he doesn't know where he is right now -_ his breath's stopping up and he's got the remnants of Leo's crushed phone in one hand, stupid, everything's stupid and broken and - "because it's the right thing to do," he mumbles, of course much too late for whoever-it-was with Michele to hear the answer to his question.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hahaha hhha merry christmas hhahah haha

Otabek's ripping down the trail, one hand gripped tight on the wheel, heart, if he's honest, jumping out of his chest. Just how far has he gone in the last few months, and does tonight count as turning back around, or going farther still?

"Call him!" he's shouting at Leo over the radio automatically pumping Lamar (Yuri's autoset).

"This IS his fucking phone!" Leo shouts back, waving the Android. Otabek jerks the wheel to swerve out into the next lane, pass the exactly-80-click Toyota whatever, flashing a belated signal light as he pulls back in ahead of them.

"Call whatever phone he's got!" Otabek yells back. "Which exit do I take? Where would the fuckers go?!"  _Only takes minutes for a potential squad of business contacts to become fuckers:_ if there is one thing Otabek will learn from tonight. "255?!"

"I'm calling him! Calling me! What do I fucking say when Michele picks up huh?" Leo's holding the phone to his ear, ignoring Otabek's question, probably because he doesn't know a good answer.

"I'm taking 256 then," Otabek says and angrily slaps off the radio. He's seeing red and not just the tail lights of the compact SUV in front of him. If he sees Michele tonight, if Michele's unlucky enough, the tables will turn -- won't be Otabek who's out of the concert tomorrow, oh no. But even as anger boils it's almost overshadowed by the overhanging mechanism of just how all this business came to be instigated, which is the joint workings of his current passenger and  _Jean-Jacques Leroy,_ fucking  _dammit_ , Otabek will punch Michele's face in for his ploy and punch it in again for anything he might have done to JJ -- because -- because -- well, there's no reasoning to Otabek's fire. It just burns.

"Can't be reached. Yo they must've trashed my phone!" Leo moans.

Otabek's swinging off exit 256. He can feel his face set, his brow tense. "Bet they're heading to Oak Lawn."

"What are they doing with JJ? Like, they just gonna fucking dump him -- it was the cops comin, right? And --"

"I don't know!" Otabek yells sharply in the closed space.

"Whoa red light dude!  _Red light!"_ Leo's screeching and Otabek slams the brakes and manages to halt just a few inches in front of the stop line at a fairly empty intersection. "God!" Leo exclaims.

Otabek takes a sharp breath in. Tries to think while the light makes him wait. "Could head more west too. Loop back around to Uni. Or, more north. Think Michele lives up that way."

"Do Oak first. It's closer. We can go down the main drag right?"

"Yeah sure."

Light turns green and they're off again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Otabek's fiery mood has burned out after seven minutes of circulating around Oak Lawn with nothing, heading ever more silently to the west with neither of them saying how much this is starting to feel like a wild goose chase. Leo's phone unreachable, no sight of the Range Rover, leaving sullen coals sitting in Otabek's gut. He's thought of the real fire back at the Under, hoping to God (but God should have stopped paying attention to him a long time ago) that there won't be any injuries or casualties. Doesn't want to have GLDN associated with that kind of headline. Hopes Yuri got insurance. Damn it! Why did Otabek take the easy way out? Why'd he let have Yuri have free reign? Why did he let himself become just the image, the face? _More melodically-driven, intellectual_ compositions -- the reporter's comment sticks hard to his consciousness. Now he's only got Yuri to trust to clean up this mess and since now they both know what he did, Otabek's worried he'll just watch the situation burn. As much as Otabek wants to say to hell with it all, this is the kind of thing that stays attached to your name for a long time. Maybe by sabotaging his release party itself Michele's done much worse than he could have by kicking Otabek out of the concert tomorrow. Well, unless they can get footage of the incident, unless there's enough evidence to put a barrier between Michele's doing and GLDN's party.

"Up here?" Otabek will say tightly and Leo will just say, "Worth a shot," and so they take a couple main exits and circle back around, no results.

"Think he'd go back north?" Otabek says.

"Dunno, don't know him as well as you," Leo shrugs, looking out the window.

"I don't know him well at all," Otabek says shortly.

"You seemed pretty fucking cozy with him back at your party," Leo half smirks. Otabek blanks for a response but Leo keeps talking. "Man but like . . . do you actually think you're a big deal?"

"Bigger than --" Otabek cuts himself off, but he's interrupted anyways by a brash laugh from Leo.

"What, bigger than me?! Yo!  _Yooooo_ ," Leo drawls, heavy and mean. "So fucking fake!"

"Not--"

"So  _fucking_  fake!" Leo says louder, over him. "You know maybe Michele had a good point. Maybe should've left him to screw you over." Leo shakes his head. "I only went cause I wanted to see you get wrecked but then JJ showed up after all, so."

"Well the club's in flames, so I got screwed over anyway," Otabek mutters.

"But at least you can perform for your family tomorrow, hey?" Leo smirks again and shakes his head.

"They don't--" Otabek says, suddenly attacked by the self-revelation that  _he will be face to face with who he's supposed to be doing this for, who he's supposed to be changing for --_

"Don't know you're a bigname shitbag now?" Leo cackles. "Lmao, man. Oh I wouldn't wanna be you."

"Me either," Otabek mutters under his breath.

"The blonde kid though, they know you're his fucktoy too?" Leo pokes, following up calmly with, "Hey, take this exit, let's check Redding."

Otabek whips onto the ramp with sudden anger. "Shut the fuck up Leo!" he snaps.

"Man did you not seen me at fucking end of Feb bash? Nah? Mount campus' river kegger couple weeks ago? I saw you man, hanging off whoever he is. Last day of class too--"

"Shut  _up_!" Otabek yells in the closed space.

"So fucking jilted now that he's flipped ya," Leo laughs. "Life, huh? Didn't think he was your type either--"

Otabek grapples over to the passenger seat while keeping his eyes on the road, hand finding Leo's face and giving it a good shove. "Mmf!" Leo says, pushing Otabek off wildly. "Redding is left lane man!"

"Oh shit." Otabek weaves in after a Mazda. "You want to get out? Didn't take you along for the ride so you could criticize my life choices." Otabek has a feeling where this  _conversation-not-really-a-conversation_ is going.

Leo guffaws. "It's just so fucking rich man. Poetic. Kinda fucking sad too. How are you gonna save face? No really. Your ex literally--"

"One more word, Leo--"

"If you ain't gonna thank me, man, you should at least give JJ--" Leo doesn't get halfway through the second syllable of that name before Otabek cuts him off, swerving off to the curb and stomping on the brakes, causing a long and annoyed horn to  _hoooooonk!_ behind him, " _What do you think I'm fucking doing right now, huh_?!"

Lurched to a stop, Leo flops against the dash but straightens back up to look at Otabek who can feel punctuated, hot, stressed breaths going in and out through his nose. They just stare at each other for some seconds. Then Otabek shakes himself and presses his face in his hands, leaning against the steering wheel. This is all really happening. "Hopeless," he mutters, meaning more than just the present hunt for JJ.

"Heh," Leo says in a flat tone, turning JJ's cell over in his hand. "You know JJ's passcode? Can only access camera."

"Why," Otabek says, but  _it used to be 2177._

"Just wondering." Leo shrugs. "What's his lockscreen anyways? Some obscure superhero?" Otabek doesn't have to even look at the phone Leo's turning towards him.

"Black Bolt," Otabek sighs. One of JJ's favorites. Otabek wishes this weren't happening. Wishes he could go back. Loaded wish though. Back to when? A few hours? A few days? Or an entire semester?

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

It's not that he  _doesn't_ need help, you see. It's hard to explain that, though, so he just says he doesn't need help. That's when someone asks him. He's standing on the street. He's walked a bit farther down. There's a McDonalds in the distance. He's cold and shaking and he forgets what his aim is every other second, thus the lack of progress. It's some middle aged guy. Maybe just got off a later shift. JJ shakes his head (which hurts)  _no_ and says something to cause the guy to keep walking. He thinks he did that, anyways, as he watches the man get further away. But wait! Maybe he could -- "Hey could I call someone on your phone," JJ blurts out, half-shouting.

So the man returns and eyes JJ while JJ takes the man's phone and tries to, well, figure out how to punch in a number on a strange interface at  _12 something ish_ a.m. after he's gotten himself in a fight and stranded somewhere in the city and --

"Just here," the stranger says, briefly repossessing the cell, swiping and tapping, handing it back with the desired keypad showing. JJ thinks he says an audible  _thanks_  but is not sure if he actually did or not the minute it ( _maybe)_ left his mounth so he says another one.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Otabek is staring into the middle distance wondering what to do next when Leo punches his shoulder emphatically. "Dude! Range Rover! Silver!" Otabek bolts back up to attention, yanking the Mercedes' shift into drive. "There there there! Go go go gogogo!" Leo yells, and sure enough, across the meridian going the opposite way is a vehicle that matches the description they're looking for. Otabek levers down on the gas just a little too strongly and they burst back out into traffic. He's got his eye on the uncontrolled intersection ahead that'll let him loop around, and he does, making it as tight as he can, just letting up on the gas enough so they don't go tailing out of control, slamming then both to the outer edge of the car.

"He's taking the left!" Leo yells as they resume a linear trajectory.

"I can see," Otabek says, pushing the limit by 20.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

"Got in a fight, eh? Girlfriend dump you?" the stranger says conversationally, with a touch of nostalgia, even, as JJ (still shakily) keys in his own number.

"S-something like that," JJ answers. Thank god he actually remembers his own number! Well, it's pretty easy, last four digits are two four eight six which is like, just the even numbers with the last two flipped! Easy! Easy peasy! He feels lightheaded. He feels pretty hot, like he's sweating. He needs to sit down! In fact, JJ wouldn't be surprised if he dropped like a dead fly right now after everything that has happened, but there is a click and he hears what he wanted to hear as Leo answers.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Then the phone rings. Leo's-phone-that-is-JJ's. Leo answers as they curve through the yellow, Range Rover four or five cars ahead.

"Hello? -- fucking  _damn it_ JJ where are you?!" Leo yells and Otabek yells  _WHAT IT'S JJ?!_ and Leo shushes Otabek and presses the phone to his ear. "Where are you, where are you man?" Leo's saying.

Otabek's grip tightens on the wheel: is he going the right way? Do they still have JJ? He holds back, still trailing the Range Rover by a few vehicles.

"Dude there are like 500 fuckin McDonalds --" Leo's saying. "What _? What?_ \-- which way the 600 or 800 block --"

Otabek's gotta focus on not rear-ending the car in front. He weaves in and out to pass.

"Well if that's on your street that's the 800 block. Hold on, we--" Leo turns to Otabek, who's already pressing him, "Where is he?"

"Back the way we came," Leo says.

"I can punch Michele's face in another day," Otabek grits (mark his words) and he looks for the next exit.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Night's cooler than Otabek expected and he stuffs his hands in his pockets as they park the Mercedes on the curb and get out (bad neighbourhood to leave such an expensive, shiny vehicle, but it's not too far off the main drag so hopefully it will be fine while they track down JJ).

"Which way," Otabek says, looking glancingly at lit awnings of closed shops and the few people hanging around (some in a loud group by a bus stop, a lone woman making her way down the opposite sidewalk), but Leo's already gesturing the way they should head.

"He said he was gonna go to the McDonald's which is 600 block, this way," he says.

Otabek follows for a few paces then has second thoughts. "We're going north right now, 600 block is south," he says.

"No, 600 to 800 is east-west," Leo argues.

"I've  _been here before_ ," Otabek says.

"Fine we just fuckin' split up then," Leo says.

Eventually they end up both heading Leo's way for a block, and then Leo says,

"Man I got turned around," which is admission enough Otabek makes a (stressed)  _heh_ in his throat and they go Otabek's way.

Paces speed up as they both see the McDonald's. They're jogging in. Burst through the double set of doors, staff at the counter cast the disruption a cursory glance as the newcomers stand in line with the lighted self-order stations for a moment. Only a couple of people at the counter; Otabek and Leo turn to the benches and seating areas, the attempt to  _McCafe_ the chain into classiness.

And there he is, in a corner booth with red seating, head in his hands, sort of, splayed out with elbows and forearms on the table and suddenly  _Otabek really doesn't know what to do._ Suddenly he's glad Leo got in with him. Leo's already at JJ and hauling him up.

"Oh man, they trashed my phone, didn't they?"

"Yeah," JJ says, pushing a smushed-looking piece of tech across the table to Leo.

He looks pretty out of it. His hair's messy. Otabek watches his hands as they scrub down his face, like JJ's exhausted; there's a shake there. Doesn't look like Michele & co. have done anything much to him otherwise though.

"Aw . . . shit, this thing cost me like $300 on top of my tab . . . fucking Michele! That's his name right?" Leo continues, turning the smashed phone over in his hands.

JJ nods as he grabs Leo's arm and lets Leo pull him up to standing and they shuffle out of the booth.

Otabek's still just standing there, watching. If he's honest, he can't be honest.  _At least Michele didn't touch --_ but JJ turns his face and on the other side of his face is a redness gathering around his cheekbone, swelling. Sight of this makes something in Otabek's gut turn against him.

"Come on," Otabek says, just swallowing and turning and clutching his phone tight in his jacket pocket.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Where do you live, JJ?" Otabek asks as they pull away from the curb. Leo gives Otabek a look. Otabek doesn't know what it's supposed to mean.

"Um . . . " JJ says in the backseat. "Uh, nice ride," he says, quietly.

"JJ, man I don't even know where you live," Leo says, turning back around.

"Don't . . . it's late," JJ says. "I mean -- I can't show up -- uh -- I'll wake them -- I uh -- " he trips on his own words. "Uh, I . . . I'm tired," he mumbles. He's not even buckled in. "Where's --" Otabek hears a sharp breath.

"JJ, come on. We'll take you back. What a fuckin' night, huh?"

" _I can't go back home!_ " JJ yells, suddenly, abruptly. "Not yet. --My head hurts! I wanna sleep." His words are stringing together. "I wanna sleep. Just let me sleep. Sorry Otabek . . . "

Otabek manages to catch that last bit.  _No, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry,_ \-- it catches in his throat, no, deeper down, catches right after the surge leaves his heart, just like he's trained himself to stop it.

"Take him back to . . . " Leo starts, talking to Otabek. "I'd say my place. But roommates wouldn't take it. Heh, some girls stayed overnight before and they got in a fucking knot over that so . . . no guests."

"He can . . . my dorm then," Otabek says. "You'll stay too."

"Why? What, me?"

"Wait till this whole concert thing blows over. Don't know what else Michele might plan to do," Otabek says.

"Got a point," Leo agrees.

"So the phone's all smashed," Otabek says.

"Yeah, I have to fucking shell out --"

"So no footage?"

Leo blinks. "Aw no, that's all safe on JJ's phone," he says.

Otabek's brain flings out for a thread of sense any of all of this has just made. "But why-- then . . ."

"JJ convinced Michele he had all the goods I guess, that's why they took off with him when the cops came," Leo explains.

Otabek shakes his head (whatever, they have JJ and the phone(s) and the footage and that's all that matters now) and keeps driving.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

JJ seems to have passed out and will not be woken. Otabek carries him.

They stopped back by the club on the return trip. Otabek knows he will have reporters and questioners and paperwork and everything else Yuri says he should do, to do tomorrow, (it  _is_ tomorrow though, technically, 1 a.m.), but for now all he can do is put a tweet together that expresses sympathy and concern but does not place the blame anywhere near GLDN. Of course, dealing with the whole matter means dealing with Yuri. Something Otabek will only do after he's slept, at least a bit. Parents arrive in 10 hours. Concert soon thereafter.

The Mercedes is parked on the street close enough to campus.

Otabek's carrying JJ on the path to the dorm and Leo trails on (JJ's) phone, having got in via passcode, which JJ clearly hasn't changed, to check that the footage is all there. It is.

Otabek's world's shaken. His confidence sags. He can't say he's sure of much right now. He still has a farce to keep up; maybe it's progress that he's considering calling it a farce. Evidence seems about right; where are all his supporters, where are all his fans, when it goes up in flames? Hopefully he has some solidarity when the press starts churning out news. Will this incident interfere with his prospects, from the scout's point of view?

He makes Leo punch in the code and steps through the door, angling to get JJ's long legs through. JJ's not  _too_ heavy, for what his height would suggest, anyways. He is more unwieldy than anything.

Briefly Otabek recalls a time when this was all switched, when JJ had a couple drinks and was warm and giggly and carried  _Otabek_ across the same threshhold, not in this bridal style, of course, but it's all much the same, and all too different, simultaneously. Because nothing is warm and giggly this time, it's all too cold and silent as Otabek puts JJ down on the couch and slaps lights on. Hopes Yuri's not back. He can't deal with that.

Leo slags in and shuts the door.

"Who's your roommate now?" he asks Otabek.

Fuck, he doesn't know? Otabek steels himself.

"Yuri," Otabek says.

"Yuri, the blonde kid?!" Leo half-explodes, guffawing.

"Shut  _up,_ I don't know if he's home," Otabek says harshly.

Leo  _kee-hee-hees,_ flopping down into a chair adjacent to the couch. " _That's so rich, oh my god, what the fuck Otabek, do you just fuck whoever's your roommate,_ " Leo just keeps going under his breath.

JJ's motionless, just the soft rise and fall of his chest. Otabek notes blood on his knuckles; not so much, not as many cuts as he'd feared, but the skin around is angry and red. He doesn't know what else to do except wring out the cloth in the kitchen sink and clean off JJ's hand, praying he doesn't wake up. And he doesn't. Otabek folds JJ's hand back in against his chest. Soft rise aand fall. Otabek stands back and watches this for a few moments, his brow tight.

_Why did he leave this again? Why can't he have this, again?_

Because he fucked up. Because he fucked up with Mila and he'll fuck things up with his family and all he can do is . . . All he's tried to do is . . . Build himself something different,  _make_ himself into something different, but that structure's all burnt and blackening from the gold he's tried to paint it in, red scabbing to used, old brown because if you let the wound sit you get hard and used to it. Ugly custom. Doesn't know if he can even make it look pretty for this coming day, for his  _family,_ because they're why he's been trying, it's the strongest tie and the love he must requite.

If he keeps his chin up now, it has to be for his family.

If he keeps his chin up now, it will only be because of the man presently passed out on his couch.

And those two clauses seem to suggest he owes something to his family they won't want, an explanation they won't like, a  _works cited_ they won't want to read.

Otabek doesn't know what to do.

So he goes to see if Yuri is back. From the relative silence of the dorm, it doesn't appear so, and Otabek's investigation confirms.

"I'm sleeping. Do whatever," Otabek calls to Leo and doesn't wait for an answer, just goes into his own room and shuts the door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

But Otabek  _isn't_ sleeping as promised.

He's thinking. Damn it all. Thinking about everything he's made sure not to think about. He's always had a good head on his shoulders, or at least, that's what test scores have said about him. But maybe he's proved them wrong. Just how much and how bad the media coverage will be, he doesn't know. Just how well he can sing in the concert tomorrow is another unknown. How many people he's slept with? How many shots and drinks and lines of coke or joints or -- how much shit has he done, exactly, to try to not feel like shit, to make himself better? Did he believe it would make him better? Because certainly, right now, it doesn't seem at all like it has worked.

He's sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, palms pressing against his brow. What will his family think? What can he or  _will he_ tell them? He had this vague idea that he could mention his DJing very briefly, it's something just casual. Of course, it will not seem casual at all if they hear about it on the radio or Twitter first.

The sheer pressure of it all forces tears out his eyes. Otabek doesn't  _cry._ No, he doesn't cry. It's just his physiology trying to regain equilibrium. But it wets his eyes and cheeks all the same, like his heart is boiling and the steam's condensing out, hot and exhausted.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Something like 3:00 a.m. when Otabek wakes up and jerks upright. He's not even under the sheets; still in his clothes and the smell of the club. Light coming in from under the door and the sound that woke him means Yuri has returned.

Otabek bangs out into the hallway just in time to stop Yuri in his tracks. Yuri, blonde hair a messy aura about his head, which somehow still fits his vibe, has his phone half in his pocket and jacket half slung around his shoulders. Smells of weed and alcohol. And betrayal.

Light from the kitchen backslants against Yuri so he's in the shadow of the hallway. Hopefully Leo and JJ are still passed out in the living room. Hopefully Otabek won't wake them with what he's sure is coming.

"You think you can just walk right back in here," Otabek hisses.

"I live here, fucker," Yuri smirks. He leans to the side as if to pass by Otabek, but Otabek mirrors the movement.

"Was all that true?" Otabek half-spits. "You let Michele take a free shot at me for your petty crimes?"

"Didn't call them petty crimes when we were sharing a joint, huh? Didn't call them petty crimes when you were grabbing for the molly I brought in, huh? Lemme past," Yuri says condescendingly.

"What's happening with the fire?" Otabek instead blocks his way.

"You're lucky, no one's died, no one's got hurt, but you're on fucking thin ice if you want me to sort out the insurance and the investigation into who started it," Yuri retaliates.

"So  _who_ started it?" Otabek holds his position.

"No one," Yuri follows smoothly. "Certainly not you. Certainly not Michele."

So  _that's_ his story if he'll be allowed to tell it? Otabek should've guessed.

"You fucking kidding me? You fucking  _kidding_ me?!" Otabek cuts his voice off from growing too loud and waking his guests in the living room.

"Also, if, in the morning,  _JJ_ and  _whoever the fuck that other kid is_ is still out there," Yuri says, jerking a thumb in the direction from which he came, "you're going to have to save your own ass."

"You can't say Michele didn't try to sabotage me. I have proof of who started the fire, video proof," Otabek says darkly, still blocking Yuri's way.

Yuri raises an eyebrow. "So? You want the money sorted out? You want your name clear? You want cheap weed? You do what I say." It's phrased like a threat.

"So that's how it is, then? I'm just your  _servant_?" Otabek half-snarls. "Did you see Sara? That's your fault! And that would've been me!"

Yuri just laughs shortly. "You think coke grows on trees? Listen, I've been doing you every fucking favor you could ask for! You think you can get what you want doing shit for it? You think you're all that?" Yuri punctuates every statement with a push to Otabek's chest. "All this nice treatment has got you cocksure. Maybe you need a reminder, huh? You owe me so much, Altin, so  _fucking_  much after tonight."

Otabek's staring into Yuri's green eyes, color not so vibrant in the dim hallway. Inside he's boiling, inside he's angry, he's furious at both Yuri and himself, and it's immobilizing as Yuri presses forward and backs Otabek up, not until they've gotten close enough that he can feel Yuri's breath on his face, smells of alcohol.

"And you better not show up at the concert tomorrow if you wanna get high ever again on my tab," Yuri adds, and his hands and long violinist's fingers go to Otabek's throat, lodged under his chin, using that as a point to push him back, back to Yuri's room; that's where this is all going to end up. Otabek knows it before it happens. He'll be bruised until he's begging and he might end up remembering this time, because his head's not swimming with too many shots. He'll let Yuri get the better of him; well, Yuri doesn't have to take it, Otabek's already sold his best to Yuri.  _Just a red bloody cord to tie his life together._ And he won't go to the concert because  _or else: Yuri._

The realization explodes in him. He really  _is_ Yuri's servant! His whole semester has been culminating to this concert, ever since they learned there would be a scout there, and he'll drop it all at Yuri's command? Well, he has to, because Yuri's the master of the house he's built for himself. The realization continues: but he doesn't  _want_ this house, this life; as he keeps backing up, as Yuri keeps pushing him, pressure on his neck and throat; look at the trouble he's in, look at what a pathetic piece of  _shit_ he's become and look at who's on his couch and who tried to fish him out of the depths he's (willingly) sunk to. Who's  _been_ trying. This all started because Otabek made a mistake, and all he's done is made  _more_ mistakes. Well, he's  _done making mistakes_ : in the moment, this is what he feels and it's the sparkplug that keeps him igniting.

He grips Yuri's wrist, stops them, throws Yuri's grip off him, right at his doorway.

"No," Otabek says.

A hint of a smile flits across Yuri's face, like he's seen this weak resistance before, before he really brings Otabek to his senses, before Otabek gives in, which is what happens every time.

Not tonight.

Otabek pushes back. Reaches out for Yuri's shirt and pushes him the other way, back out, back towards the living area.

At least Yuri appears taken aback, frozen for a second before he struggles them to a stop, just at the entrance of the hallway.

"You fucking  _need_ me," Yuri spits, "you can't get anyone else to do the shit I do for you -- you think you deserve that there," Yuri points to the couch, other hand occupied around Otabek's wrist, trying to dislodge his grip from his shirt with no results, "drops in to cover your ass months after --  _you think you deserve that_ \--"

" _NO I DON'T!"_ Otabek barks, it rips from his lungs and his voice cracks on the tail end of the last syllable; his fist tightens and then throws Yuri down, back and down to the floor, and he's flinching at Otabek's outburst.

No he doesn't. No he _doesn't_ deserve JJ. Has he ever? Maybe before he became what he is now.

Hands clenched at his sides, all Otabek says is, shaking with the effort of trying to not get himself implicated in any other violent crimes tonight,

"Get  _out_."

Maybe it's the way his jaw's tightened, the intensity of his stare, unmoving, the way he trembles with rage, the inflection of the phrase,  _hard as a rock;_ maybe it's how easily Otabek can indeed lay Yuri on his ass if he wants to, and oh, he  _does_ want to, now: but Yuri picks himself up and, after matching Otabek's gaze for a second, tilts his head and turns around. Goes to the door. Pulls on his boots.

Otabek stands there, still, silent, but even he can feel his own anger in the room.

"Leave my stuff at the door and I'll leave your own shit for you to deal with, fucker," Yuri says, but it's not with the same power as before; and then he opens the door, exits, and closes it behind him.

Otabek stands there longer. As if Yuri will return. As if the cord hasn't snapped and Otabek still has a knife's edge keeping him in place, in all the wrong places.

But Yuri doesn't return.

Before returning to his room, Otabek only glances at the couch, where JJ's still passed out despite the noise, and the adjacent sofa, where Leo's half sitting-up and blinking.

With his door shut, it seems so silent and dark.

Before returning for a few final hours of sleep, Otabek deletes Yuri off his phone. Not before a last message comes through from Yuri, though.

_so maybe you don't need me, but you'll always need someone to fuck you up, put you in your place. you think you're better now? nah, you'll only get worse. you'll come crawling back, just wait._

Exhaustion is the only cause for subsequent sleep.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning, Otabek spends three full hours clicking things, talking to people, going to talk to the police and media and insurance and emailing and filling out things and  _delivering the footage,_ most of all. He left the dorm, after boxing up all of Yuri's shit and leaving it outside (never mind inside), to Leo's care and JJ to Leo's care as well, making him swear to stick around and call Otabek if Michele showed his face again, looking for Revenge Part II.

He tried to take his bike, but when he got to the parking stall, someone had taken an axe to the Harley Street multiple times. Metal dented; fuel in a strongly-smelling puddle underneath; leather of the seat ripped open.

It will be fun explaining that to his parents. Otabek still doesn't know what to tell his parents, except the truth. There's really no other option other than the truth at this point. It's going to hurt. It's going to hurt a lot, most likely.

What if Yuri's right? What if Otabek comes back -- but he won't. That's one thing he gets to choose. He might not get to choose the other ways besides motor vehicle vandalism in which Yuri will please to show his spite (frankly, Otabek thinks, walking away wryly, heading for the Mercedes, he should be flattered that Yuri's upset so), but he  _does_ get to choose how he himself reacts.

The Mercedes is as shiny as ever, which Otabek would  _not_ have expected if he didn't park it in an obscure place which Yuri wouldn't think of. Luckily, he can still unlock and drive it with the app. Shouldn't expect that to last long, though.

Otabek is still shaken. He still doesn't know quite what will happen. But at least he has a trajectory now. And if it hurts, so be it. This time, it will be the  _right_ kind of hurt. Not some substitute, not chasing some high or some low or some experience. What happens will happen.  _The truth,_ Otabek thinks grimly to himself even as he instinctually  _wants_  to do the usual weekend procedure.

And he'll do everything he can for JJ, exactly what he wants and nothing that assumes anything about what Otabek is to him.

And he'll hold himself up at least for today, for the concert, for his parents.

But when he gets back, having achieved some semblance of peace, Leo is alone, eating cereal in the kitchen.

"Where's JJ?" Otabek asks, looking at the stove clock that says 10:30 a.m. His parents arrive in a half hour at the airport.

"Hey man. He had an exam. I gave him some food and sent him off -- "

Otabek's grabbing Leo again.

"Which exam?! When?!"

"Hey hey man, my cereal!" Leo complains, shaking Otabek off and shielding his bowl of sloshing food. "Idk, like chem I think he said . . . he left like twenty minutes ago . . . "

Otabek lets off but he's lost now because he has no clue where that was happening but he has to leave for the airport  _right now._

"You think he's OK?" Otabek says, frustrated, reaching the conclusion he really can't do anything useful if JJ is in an exam anyways.

"Of course," Leo mumbles around a mouthful of Fruit Loops. "Well nah," he amends.

"And you let him go alone?!" Otabek says, pulling at the top of his undercut.

"Chill, no point in me going, it's just his exam, like, I mean I gave him some food and he'll probably be fine for a bit anyways," Leo says, but it's not too reassuring.

" _Gave him some food,"_ Otabek repeats, ridiculing, but worriedly. "What does that mean?"

"He stood up and then sat down and passed out so, figured it was like, low blood sugar," Leo says. "He'll be fine don't worry."

Not very convincing.

Maybe Otabek can meet his parents at the airport, see them to their hotel and then hurry back to make sure JJ gets out OK and there's no Michele intercept waiting for him. Even if there isn't, Otabek's pretty sure that  _he's fine_ is not the truth at all, judging from last night.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

JJ's running after making Leo help him loot the dorm for a working pencil and calculator (Otabek doesn't have one, but luckily in one of the boxes sitting outside there was!). He's running because this is the last thing on his to-do list: if he can just make it to & through this exam he'll have done enough! He'll have passed his courses! He can have  _some_ small measure of success, some consolation! Something to bring back home!

He's not even wearing a sweater. It was warm yesterday but it got cold overnight and feels like it's just getting colder! So good thing he's sprinting! His knuckles hurt and his face hurts, throbbing from the hit delivered to his cheekbone, and his lungs hurt as he dashes down the old and new paths -- past administration, past the building where the Hollow is, past the library, through the passage between the exams halls of last semester and finally  _finally_ there it is, he's sucking in breaths running on a fleeting burst of energy from the cereal he stuffed down and clutching the pencils and pens and the calculator -- he has his student ID, it's in his pocket, at least that, so he can get in -- exam was supposed to start at -- started 9:45, pretty sure!

He bursts in through the double doors and then the second step. He almost slips down the stairs past some girls who are holding coffees and wearing bright leggings.

Skids to a stop to checking the seating list but then his eyes won't focus and read anything properly right now and so he just launches off down the hall and there are the sickly-pale-blue doors of the gym, and the official whoever standing outside and he's panting for air as he slows to a halt and,  _and and and he--_ he made it! He's --

"I'm sorry but it's over 30 minutes past the start of the exam," the woman at the entrance says as he moves for the horizontal bar that will open the gates to the last hurdle he'll have to jump.

JJ barely pauses, hand still on the bar. He gives the woman a look that must say everything, because she angles her body and repeats,

"I'm sorry but you're not allowed to enter now."

JJ's lungs constrict and don't let go and his throat closes up, full stop, his lips move to say  _what --_ but he can't -- but this is his  _last chance --_ "I know I-I-I'm late but--" he manages to gasp -- but she  _won't let him in! But she can't! It's his LAST CHANCE THIS IS HIS LAST CHANCE!_

His breathing stops up again and the woman is still shaking her head and his vision's going all tunnelly and spotty and  _she has to let him in she HAS TO SHE HAS TO_ he doesn't even know what he's saying, is he shouting at her?, he doesn't know what he's doing, this is his  _last chance, this is his last chance!_

\-------------------

[this is my mood song for this chap ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pv1mbEFYe-M&index=16&list=PLFtCDaG4LZelZ1zYi-uTrIroK_0pnlV7-)and life in general

[want some soft jjbek christmas art? PROMISE ITS NOT DEPRESSING ](https://sciencemakedrugtho.tumblr.com/post/168949931026/just-in-time-before-christmas-ends)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wow :'(

He's sitting outside someone's office now with his head in his hands, clutching the top part of his undercut, knee bouncing frenetically, still,  _still_ trying to breathe because - oops - he was yelling at her, the woman who wouldn't let him in the exam and so they came - they, security,  _security oh god why_ \- just to take him here, just to escort him away, they're going to let him try to talk to - talk to someone - but it doesn't look good - they were looking at the side of his face, the angry red and purple bruising cheekbone and probably drawing conclusions -, and,  _and and and._ Are those conclusions wrong?! Are they wrong?  _Are they wrong to think he was doing something wrong - or at least making the wrong choice -_ he doesn't know, well - well he  _knows_ it was a bad choice - to go to the release party, to stick his head into all of the plotting and then get himself on the bad side of Michele and end up stranded and have to get picked up and then arrive late for this exam he so  _badly needs to pass_ \- he's losing himself, he doesn't look up when the door opens because he can't plead his case because he's got nothing to stand on - just - just -  _please just let me write the exam, can I defer it? I just need to pass._

Somehow he ends up standing but he still has to grip the doorframe to keep himself upright because he's still shaking. Who is this? It's the professor, who's the dean of something-or-other,  _oh god,_ and JJ knows the prof knows him, knows him enough to know he's a good student,  _please I -_ "Can I defer th-the exam?" is what he manages to say, but he can't make eye contact and all the prof tells him is what he already knows, that it's too late to defer - but if JJ has a doctor's note - "Well I don't have a doctor's note," JJ says because he can't eve _n get up the nerve to go to the doctor, can't even get up the nerve to take his stupid meds much less get 'em filled because people might know -_ they might know he's  _really_ like this! He's just a fake! The prof is saying sorry or something like that. Then he's getting sent to somewhere else. He nods his head when he's asked if he knows where whatever-it-is is located.

Turns out they're sending him to first aid. He gets there eventually. Time is irrelevant. His heart sags inside him as he sits in the chair and gives some dumb excuse about fighting or whatever and not what really happened. (His knee hurts too but no point in making any mention of that.) His brain refuses to think past what's just happened, maybe because it knows the implications already. He can't lose a  _second_ scholarship. He can't! It's not - it's too - his pulse slugs through his veins like it wants to stop, every beat a bass drop in his ears, he lets his hands dangle and his fingers start to go numb and he's pretty sure there are basic signals to  _eat_ or  _sleep_ or  _drink something_ but they're too quiet, muffled by the blanketing awareness of the situation he's in - he's failed, after all this,  _after all this,_ he - he can't even respond, he should be gearing up, fighting for himself, doing  _something,_ but no, it seems like it's over now, he's too drained to even panic, damn it. Damn his stupid heart or his stupid whatever that made him go out last night -  _wish he'd never overheard_ \- but he can't make himself wish he'd never overheard Michele's plans, never gone to the party, never knocked the drink out of Otabek-not-Beka's hands - in all of this there's a concerning lack of - well, there's some regret, at least that's there - but a concerning lack of  _wishing he hadn't done it at all._ 'Cause he doesn't wish he hadn't done it at all. Almost like he'd be fated to do it every time. No matter what.

Fated to fail?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Otabek greets his parents at the airport. There's a brief flurry of happiness that melts away, not like the snow that continues to blow in and stick to the concrete as they walk out to the rental car. Nevertheless, he remembers this  _is_ a rare occasion - his parents taking time off work to come see him (and Yuri, he remembers: likely Otabek's father will give a glowing report to the Plisetskys, and by similar gestures continued, perhaps the Altins will become integral in the company's operation).

Neither Otabek nor Leo knew what or where JJ's exam was, and there isn't much Otabek could do even if he  _did_ know; not like he could go bursting into the exam room and . . . well, he doesn't know what exactly to do, but at least talk with him. Maybe while JJ's writing, Otabek can figure out what to say.

Otabek agrees he is excited for the concert as well. His parents look genuinely happy to see him. Of course they ask where Yuri is. Otabek shakes his head. "Probably rehearsing," he says. At this point he doesn't know and doesn't care, at least, not all that much. But if he's honest, he'll admit he feels like he's done something dangerous. Unwarranted. Kicking Yuri out. It's not only an act that his family will disapprove of (hopefully, though, they'll believe Otabek when he tells them why), but it severs the tie that was holding everything together. His phone is still buzzing and he still has people to call (it seems like insurance will come through: on the fire, though, and not on the mysterious vandalism of his Harley). It's him that has to do this now, of course. It's him that has put himself alone. He wants to roll a blunt right now and let everything that matters, all this headache, take a backseat, or maybe finish the old bottle of port sitting in one of the low cupboards, so sweet it might make him sick, but that's not going to be the standard course of action any more.

It hasn't worked. None of this. None of this escapism, substitution, call it what you want, because guilt sticks deeper to him than he can even beg Yuri to scar him.

This is really impossible to tell his family. That's not the truth he'll tell. But the facts will come out, and he'll let them draw their own conclusions. Later. At dinner. After the concert. He doesn't want to ruin that. Because all this trouble - all the trouble JJ put himself through -  _damn it, JJ_ \- well, it would be for nothing if the concert went and got ruined.

While Otabek's talking with his parents, while they're taking a stroll around the downtown block (the theatre is only a five minutes' drive away), this is all going through his head. Time is ticking by; soon JJ will probably be out of his exam and then hopefully,  _hopefully,_ he'll go back to Otabek's dorm and Leo can fill him in.

They stop in a coffee shop because the snow still won't go. Time keeps ticking by. Otabek will just have time to stop by the dorm if he wants to talk to JJ before the rehearsal . . . but then he gets talking about Alina with the family, talking about the business acquisition, his father's prospects (looking like the Plisetsky-Altin connection is going to afford his father quick steps up the corporate ladder, and Otabek swallows hard but still manages a smile). Soon enough, Otabek slips his phone out of his pocket for the time, and it's later than he thought. He's got to get back. He explains to his parents about rehearsal, refreshes their memories on the time and place, gives a brief embrace and takes his leave. (To the train station; all he says when asked about transportation is that it's too chilly to bike, which is true, but not all of the truth. Later.)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

En route back to the dorm, Otabek gets a text from Leo saying he has an exam and therefore is presumably leaving the dorm. Otabek asks him if JJ has showed up again, yet. No answer.

When Otabek gets back inside and stamps the skiff of snow off his boots, the room is disappointingly empty. There's only a box of cereal left on the counter with the cardboard flaps open and plastic bag sticking up, edge all rumpled.

He lets a heavy sigh out. Well, he has to get to rehearsal. Maybe . . . maybe JJ will even be at the concert. The corner of his mouth twists in some kind of wry smile. Two concerts is probably too much to ask.

Grabbing a scarf and folders of music, he leaves again. Then stops halfway down the path and slaps his forehead and takes out his phone and dials JJ's number.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

It didn't work. Nothing worked. It's all done.

JJ's standing in front of his locker in the basement, the three-tall rows of off-brown, off-orange rectangles. He's chasing the little firework-bugs dancing in his vision. They're not really there. He half-turns around. They're so pretty! He reaches out - to grab one - but they just keep floating - he wishes he could float away - eventually they disappear. He stands in the hall. Suddenly his heart is clutching. Did someone see him?! What if someone sees him?! They'll think he's crazy! He's crazy, just chasing stuff that - he turns around sharply because out of the corner of his eye - but nothing's there, just the rows on rows of lockers. He's breathing hard but he hasn't moved a muscle. His arms are tensing up and his back and his neck and he's shaking again. It's over! It's over and nothing worked and  _they won't let him take the exam and -_ and he - he - and -  _he tried -_

Dizzying moments or minutes or hours later he doesn't know (what is time?) he comes back to the question of why is he here, standing in front of his locker. Right. Because it's the end of the school year! Because Bella's supposed to pick him up - wait, is it tonight? It's tonight, isn't it? He told the Lagranges it's tonight. Wait, no! She'll be here tonight and they're supposed to go out and do something and then, and then leave tomorrow morning for a road trip and then stop to go skiing and - and, but - but JJ can't - he can't, he  _knows_ he can't - he should call Bella - call her and - wait, why is he here? His locker. Right, he's supposed to empty it and take everything home - so he unlocks it, has to twist left-right-left a few times because his shaky hands won't listen to him at all - and then of course everything comes falling out, the practice exam book, the extra couple pens, sheets from last semester and - and a scarf that wasn't his and  _guess it is now_ because even though he gave all his stuff back to Beka that Beka had borrowed and Beka did the same he still kept one thing but he's never worn it again just in case he sees - just in case - but now -

\- somehow, a few or several or many minutes later, Jean-Jacques Leroy manages to close the lock on his locker, and he leaves uncertainly in one direction before turning and going the other, wrapped up in one Kazakh's dark blue scarf pressed close to his nose even though it's warm in this block. He manages to breathe, and so breathes in a scent that's unfamiliar and has remained so, locked away like this. And his steps steady.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The noise of the strings tuning, of the choir warming up, of the talk and chatter is overpowering. The lights, the costumes, the nervous energy that doubles as excitement . . . it's enough to distract Otabek's spirits for now. Michele and co. are here, of course, staying a good distance away. And Yuri's here too. Otabek makes eye contact with him once. There's a sneer that passes over Yuri's face and then he's back in the attention of the crowd.

But there's plenty of attention to go around. Otabek's beset upon by many people who were at the party last night. He turns the influx of questions back on them, asking after Sara: he already knows she was taken to the hospital briefly, but got out and might,  _might_ still show up today; who knows. If she shows up, though, she'll be in the crowd, says one of her fellow clarinet players. Apparently she could barely speak last anyone heard.

On that topic then Otabek's drowned in more questions. At least he feels better because the gist of all the questions seem to hold the assumption that there  _was_ foul play. Otabek keeps his chin up and doesn't name names, doesn't even look Michele's way, or Yuri's, all he says is, "Look, I'm really tired, no one got hurt besides Sara, which was unfortunate but it wasn't my fault . . . I can talk after the concert." After repeating that his questioners turn to each other for answers (or gossip), and it's time to get in position anyways and go through the program.

Otabek can't  _really_ talk after the concert. He's taking his parents out to dinner. They're going to the restaurant at the top of the one tower downtown. But since JJ didn't answer his phone, and if he  _keeps_ not answering his phone, those plans are going to be second to making sure JJ's OK. How to do so? Otabek really has no clue, but finding JJ's whereabouts would be a good first step.

 _Stay safe,_ Otabek mentally begs JJ, wherever he is. At least Michele and co. are here and occupied. Otabek would love to further occupy them later, because you know what, those assholes deserve a beating. But he has just enough restraint to leave well enough alone, especially with the footage in the hands of the police; maybe a higher power can serve better justice than Otabek alone.

Still, Otabek has an opportunity for quality justice right here and right now. JJ's who-knows-where with half a busted face and it damn well won't be for nothing. Because Otabek will give  _Still_ all he has tonight.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

Halfway to the train station, JJ stops and stares up at the nearly toneless sky of gray, letting flakes sift down and settle on his face. He doesn't know what time it is although it seems to be getting dimmer. He does know he sat down in the study lounge for a while. He thinks he slept a bit. He doesn't feel better. He knows it's taken him a ridiculous amount of time to get - to do - well what exactly has he done? It doesn't matter! It's all over! He wants to scream! But he doesn't have any energy left to do that. His stomach doesn't feel good. And it's too cold and the scarf he's wrapped around himself is the only consolation. But at least outside shivering doesn't look so out of place.

Oh! He remembers now! What he did! He went to the Students' Resource Center and used their phone and called himself. But no one picked up. He doesn't know where his phone is, then. (It _might_ be at Otabek's dorm but -- but he doesn't have the nerve to go back there.) So he called Bella - she's not going to make it in tonight because the highway is bad - but JJ can't remember what  _he_ told  _her._ It doesn't matter, does it? He doesn't think he told her much. He remembers cutting himself off, slapping the phone back down in its place and rushing out before anyone could ask him any questions. Did he? Did someone try to talk to him? Has he been rude? Yes! He's losing it! He's losing himself! He yelled at the woman outside the exam room when really all he should do is yell at himself! He wants to sleep for years and years and  _years!_ And he  _doesn't want to go back home_ because it's  _NOT home_ and he'll get in so much trouble and they'll think he's been out up to no good with this bruise on his cheek and he knows, he  _knows_ he won't be able to answer a question straight like this - no! No, he can't - but he has to - Bella's coming to get him - his stomach curdles - he wishes - he squeezes his eyes tight - he wishes he just  _weren't,_ he's made such a mess of this and - and - and -

\- there's one last thing to do, something only his heart knows and his feet follow the order, so he's outside the thick double doors, east side, of the Overmont Theatre halfway through the concert, and the student attending the doors and ripping off ticket stubs really doesn't give a damn when JJ just mumbles he wants to listen and pushes in - he has his student ID anyways he tries to fumble with and show him but in the end he just slips inside the first doors and then - well he pushes the second set open a crack and ends up sitting down, not in the auditorium, still between the two sets of entrance doors, like a human doorstop. Sitting on the thick warm-hued carpet and leaning himself so the door props open, just a bit, and the sounds come through, the last bit of the second movement of that symphony or symphonic something by someone he doesn't remember. Arabian nights or something. No, he can't  _be_ in the actual theatre. He doesn't belong there. Not anymore. But he can listen, he can peek through the slit in the sky, see the stars though he's in the cold, dark night.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yuri's violin is the glittering star of Scheherazade. Singing and sharp, sly and seductive, sad at times but never for long. Otabek listens. Maybe the skin and scars on his back crawl. But that's Otabek's story. What's Yuri's story? Why the violin? Why does is it still so  _beautiful_ after everything Otabek knows Yuri's done?

One guess Otabek has, and it's not an excuse, but for once he can remove himself from the situation and say this: maybe the bow on the strings, maybe the carefully accelerated and drawn out vibrato is the only thing Yuri can  _really_ control. It's not so different as their. . . relationship, anyways, is it? As their relationship  _was._ It's all about control. And ultimately, though still not an excuse, it's probably not really Yuri's fault for being this way. When you're younger and better than your peers, and your parents are, well, the sort of influentials as the Plisetskys are . . . suppose you're expected to turn out a certain way. Made to?

The way Yuri draws out notes and makes high sounds oscillate is not just singing and sharp and sly and seductive: it is, all elements combined, defiant.

But whatever sort of fucked up deal Yuri and Otabek had going on, well, it certainly hasn't ended up as a worthy replacement for real self control, for Otabek's own competence. It's only ended in pain and problems and flames, in frustration and anger and worry and wounds. Ending it means it's Otabek's turn to be defiant, to demand control. And it's definitely too much responsibility. And he definitely can't make everything perfect again. Nothing will fix itself so easily. But at least it will be  _real,_ he won't have to drug himself into it, he won't have to let Yuri have whatever he wants in order to try and feel some kind of forced authenticity.

Backstage is sparse just with Otabek and some other soloists and he feels strangely reflective, with a swimming sense of the calm-before-the-storm. Whatever comes next will be Otabek's fault and his only, be it good or bad.

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There is some clapping after the piece ends. JJ almost fell asleep but didn't. He can only see a sliver of blurred and banded darkness and color through the slit of the door he's propped himself against to prop open. JJ's sure it's the piece featuring Otabek's violinist. Yuri. Who was gonna just let Otabek get drugged out of the concert! Who was gonna hand him over for getting his record wiped! But JJ can't be  _angry!_ Not at Otabek! Just sad! Sad, sad, sad!

The auditorium is full, JJ can tell from the soft ambient noise filtering through before the next piece is announced and the piano starts. What's JJ doing here? He needs to - Bella's coming - he needs to - he can't, he just wishes he could -

He  _knows_ this song. He  _knows_ this voice. This is his student. He taught him the very words! He sat him down or stood him up or what-have-you and taught him to sing it! Well sure he was a good student! A natural! He was the best! The best JJ could ever have! Student or otherwise? Sure, maybe there's someone better on someone else's scales but what JJ wants, what JJ wanted, only  _one_  thing, only one: him! And now he doesn't have him -

JJ squeezes his eyes shut and folds himself into the scarf and tries to shut down all senses except his ears.

 _Still wie die Nacht,_ "und tief wie das Meer," JJ mumbles/mouths to himself and he's half-laughing and half-crying because it's better than he imagined: you can't even tell what a night the vocalist had, how late he was up or what he had gone through to get here on stage: the tone is strong and deep and controlled. There aren't any emergency breaths either! It sounds like someone who's had at least two years of professional training.  _At least one half should be whole,_ and it is! It wasn't for nothing! There  _is_ some great sense of relief, relief and sadness, that at least - at least  _this!_ And JJ imagines Beka's - see there he goes, using Beka again, as if,  _as if -_ imagines Beka's family sitting in the crowd, and they must be looking so nice and so proud of him and Beka's making them proud like he wanted to and even if that's the same piece that divides him and JJ,  _his family, Otabek's family and their different kind of love and their different set of rules and different expectations and desires for their son -_ well - well JJ's happy for it, and sad for it, and happy for it. Because he has to be happy for Beka. He can't help it! The mix of joy and sorrow is too much! He doesn't know how to handle it! This is what Beka wanted and it's what JJ must have wanted too because otherwise, you know, he wouldn't have his knuckles all busted and his cheek all bruised and his last exam missed and - well, you know! JJ must have wanted this! But he  _didn't!_ But he  _did!_ To laugh or cry? He can't! He can't deal with it! It's the last phrase, the interlude before the last  _soll deine liebe sein_ and he can't  _DEAL WITH IT!_

So he rushes out, he runs away, he leaves the concert and leaves Beka - Otabek Altin, leaves Otabek Altin - behind with his family, leaves the university for the train station, wishes he could leave  _himself_ behind but seems like the worst thing for JJ is himself and he's stuck with the problem.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You're supposed to take a couple good, deep breaths and ground yourself before you start. So Otabek looks at his family, sitting in the front row of the top balcony. He smiles, just a bit, because he can't help it, despite everything. In  _spite_ of everything, here he is. The scout is downstairs but Otabek pays no mind. He nods at the accompanist.

He might be singing  _still as the night and deep as the sea, so should your love be for me_ \- but it means something new. So should  _whose_ love be for  _whom?_ Otabek certainly cannot demand anything, so it is:  _so should his own love be._ For? For the help Otabek never accepted, for the outright lie ( _I don't want you, not now_ ) and walking out, for the entire  _months_ that have gone by cold and silent, for the plea to at least  _stay friends_ being answered by the evidence of another's kisses, for the pained look on his face, for the bruise on his cheek, for - for Jean.

So should it be.

Is Otabek singing, or telling himself the whole story, giving the Lied ground to stand on, realizing the conclusion that he  _has to try to make good on_?

 _If you love me as I love you, then I will be yours -_ the words come out of his mouth but it seems to be ever so obvious that the pleas, the demands of the song really belong to  _Jean-Jacques Leroy._

For this arrangement, instead of the interlude going to the final tag of the last line, the piano goes back into the first verse for a repetition in English; several program numbers are like so, intended to make the program appeal to a wide audience.

But after it's over and Otabek stands in the spotlight, and applause rises and he smiles at his parents who stand and clap, and he bows, he thinks he might have sung this instead:

_Still as the night and as deep as the sea, so should my love be for you._

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JJ sits on the train with his mind blanking out. Nothing but the trundling of the wheels on the track and the rumble of the hard seat he's sitting on at the front of the car.

By the time his awareness stirs itself again and comes back to him and he shakes himself and jerks up to standing and looks out the window (and probably gets looks from other passengers) he sees nothing familiar. Panic rises in his throat. Where is he? Where did he - but then his vision casts around the car and lands on the triangle notice thing hanging from the ceiling and it has two stripes of green on it. He got on the wrong train! He's got to get off and switch back! He's going east or something!

When the train next stops he rushes out, stepping onto the concrete platform covered in a layer of sticky wet snow, which is still falling; people bustle out around him and others flow the other way, crowding him, enveloping the space around him with hurry and noise so he can only freeze to the spot and  _just keep breathing_ until it all passes and the train pulls away.

Red. He makes himself think about red so he'll only get on the red train. His thoughts are a messy jumble and his hands won't stop shaking; he pulls his scarf up higher to maybe hide the bottom of his face and his angry-looking cheekbone; he must be a sight because he gets stiff and strange looks from people coming out the doors of the station. He tries to recall the melody of  _Still,_ sung by the one and only. But even that seems like a long time ago already. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"You did so well," Otabek's parents tell him when the concert is over, everyone has bowed and put away everything backstage. Most are staying to talk with their friends or going out drinking. Otabek has no intention of sticking around. He goes out into the lobby to greet his family, to see pride on their faces, to see he's done it, he's made them proud.

He glances over a few heads to see the scout talking to Yuri. Unfortunately, his parents follow his gaze and start talking about Yuri. He was excellent too, no? Such a talented musician as well. More questions about Otabek's involvement with Yuri over the semester as the parents angle to go over and talk with the Plistesky's son.

Otabek excuses himself to talk with someone who knows Sara and ask after her while his parents leave to greet Yuri. However, only a minute later Otabek himself is interrupted - by the scout, who's been displaced from talking to Yuri.

Otabek is polite and pretends to be pleasantly surprised that the scout is here. She compliments him sparsely on his performance and asks him some basic details about his musical education and background. He, in turn, expresses interest in the school she represents. The conversation is a bit of a blur, but she gives him her card and asks him to send her an email. Of course he will.

When his parents return to his side he's half-smiling and holding the card even as some classmates around him congratulate him. Yuri got the scout's contact too, his mother mentions, but it is more of a cursory note.  _It's very nice, but I'm sure the Plisetskys will have Yuri transfer back to the National Music Academy; we talked about it over dinner a couple of weeks ago. But would you take the opportunity, Beka?_ And Otabek nods. He doesn't want to be at the same school as Yuri anyways.  _Then you must send her a message soon,_ Otabek's mother tells him, smiling as well.

Somehow, Otabek ends up introducing his parents to director Feltsman and they get to talking (in Russian, conveniently). He goes down a hallway and finds a quiet room to call the insurance people, and ends up taking a couple other calls as well from media and the police office. Classmates are asking about the fire, even people who don't know him and only know GLDN. The report is on Twitter and on the local news and Facebook, but the cause of the fire is still listed as "under investigation". One of Sara's friends has talked to the police as a witness, he knows that at least. And Leo's supposed to talk to the police, and JJ, once someone finds out where the hell he is.

Otabek calls JJ's number again but still no answer. Sighing through his nose, he hangs up and leaves the empty classroom he's hidden himself in. It's about dinnertime now; they should get away to their reservation at the restaurant; but the realization he's leaving the university and might never come back dawns and he feels a little nostalgic. He has already cleaned out his locker, but he goes out into the growing, noisy crowd anyways and taps his parents on the shoulder to let them know he will be back soon. It's mostly the audience and the important deans and professors and conductor; students are quickly dropping off to likely grab their things and leave.

Otabek just wants to wander down the second-level corridor of practice rooms and look out the windows at the school grounds and remember this. Even though he's uncertain about what exactly is going to happen next, this deserves to remain part of his past.

The sound of things crashing come from a little down the hallway. Curious, Otabek goes that way. It's room 204K. It's, as Otabek looks around the corner, Yuri, with his violin case in hand, absolutely wrecking the room: the stands in the corner, the fake tree, the shelf with books, the extra bench off to the side and the keyboard opposite the upright. He's taking his case like a bat to everything -  _BANG! THUNK! CRASH! SMASH! -_ and eventually just lobs the black thing at the window which makes a resounding, reverbrating smacking tone. Otabek, watching, flinches. The only thing Yuri's not touched is the violin itself at his feet with the bow and resin box there, but he jerks the instrument up by its neck and for a horrifying second makes as if to throw it too, but at the top of the arc his arm jerks to a stop and he's flailing at the air with the instrument. He's kicking the bow and the resin with one foot. " _I WON'T FUCKING GO BACK! I'M NOT YOUR FUCKING SLAVE! YOU DON'T GET TO DECIDE!"_ he's shrieking. " _SEE THIS? SEE - SEE FUCKING THIS - "_ And out of the pocket of the suit jacket they all had to wear for the concert he pulls the scout's contact card.

Otabek turns and leaves then. He doesn't need to see any more.

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JJ's feet take him out of the train. Apparently he got on. Did he? Is it the right one?! Well he's here now! It's getting dark. He goes into the covered stairwell where you can buy tickets and look at the schedule and get up to the +15 link. He climbs up. Dirt and wet from people tracking in the snow stains the floor. He lets all the crowd go past him, he lets himself get pushed to the side, to the windowed wall beside one of the ticket stations; he doesn't know quite why he's here or why he's got off.

When the crowd's passed he realizes this is the university station. Oh! Why is he here? Oh right! He started from here. He started here and, and  _and took the wrong train_ right - so he's back here - so he should - so he should get back on the next train - when does it come -  _why is he doing all this, why is he still trying when he's failed his last exam by not taking it?!_ He's as good as done, he's lost his scholarship AGAIN for sure and he's going to - going to have to tell Bella and his mom and his dad - he kicks the wall and kicks it and kicks it because he  _hates_ this! He hates how his life is! He's fallen and he can't climb back up! He's already  _given_ his best!

He goes down the stairs. Slowly. Tripping a few at a time. Steadying himself on the worn metal rail. He feels like he might fall over. But he makes it to the bottom platform, still indoors.  _Next red line train in 6 minutes,_ the fuzzy computer voice announces over the speakers. Still smells like wet and dirt. JJ's mind is muddled and his head feels light and hot.

Down the stairs come more people as JJ is, again, trying to get a handle on his breathing (and everything else but it's not working).

He assumes they'll ignore him but they don't.

It's Michele and co. - they must be done with the concert now! - and they don't look happy.

"Fucking scouts thinking -"

"Can just get up there and change the lyrics too."

"Never should have meddled and. . . "

"-The cops? They called and the footage . . ."

"Hey isn't that-"

"Look, that's JJ."

All this chatter, JJ catches bits and phrases and then Michele's in his face and pushing him back to the wall, he's shuffling back, no,  _no no no he should get out - he should get away -_ but he can't.

"Today's not your lucky day, JJ!" Michele says. He shoves JJ back, hands to his chest. "Your boy Otabek still made it in the concert, huh?"  _Shove._ Scrape of JJ's shoes on the gritty wet floor. Michele stalks forward, flanked by his posse. "He did  _oh so well!_ That's what you wanted?"  _Shove._ "Scout didn't even look  _my_ way." JJ's back hits the brick wall.

"I don't-" JJ starts, holding up his hands and trying to dodge aside, get out,  _he's feeling shitty enough as it is -_ but Michele grabs him by a fistful of his shirt.

"I  _told you! That was my career! My one shot!_ And you had to go and  _fuck it up! All for Otabek Altin!"_ Michele spits out the name. "He's a piece of  _shit!_ "

Suddenly they're fighting and Michele's tossing him back and he lands on some of Michele's cronies, who push him back up and JJ's sort of angry but, let's be  _honest,_ running on less-than-empty and so he throws himself under Michele's next shot at him and lunges at his legs, just trying to maybe trip him up so JJ can run off and catch the train which is  _going to be here soon!_ He doesn't expect it to work. But it works! He tackles Michele's legs and throws them both to the floor and, bam, they're down! Michele's yelling and someone else pulls JJ off of Michele and JJ lunges to run out the doors but someone  _else_ grabs him and then, and then his inner ear is spinning and he's kicked this way and thrown that way and he blocks a shot at his face but then there's someone's shoe jabbing into his stomach and ribs and he's scrabbling to get up off the ground, his body doesn't have any resources left to give him any rush of sugar or adrenaline - he bites his tongue hard as someone knocks him back again - and then he's pushing himself up on his knees but - a hook to his gut and he curls over -

"It's not even smart, it's such a dumbass move, everyone knows he broke up with you, why are you so fucking pathetic?!" Michele grabs him back up again and he's snarling in his face, fistful of JJ's shirt and scarf and slamming his back into the brick wall. "Why  _defend_ him?!"

JJ gasps an inhale, "'Cause I love him," he mumbles and breaks off and coughs and Michele throws him on the ground and JJ hopes, hopes  _hopes hopes they'll just leave him alone -_ and, and - and:

they do.

"You know what, fuck this, let's go have a drink."

"Leave him?"

"Whatever, I don't care."

Someone tosses a slur his way.

And then footsteps, and they're leaving.

 _Next train arriving,_ the computerized voice says, but JJ's squeezing his eyes shut and still coughing and trying to breathe, maybe only just hearing what he himself said; his mouth tastes sharply like copper and he  _can't breathe._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The waitress asks them if they would like anything to drink. Fancy lights are dimly lit in the restuarant at the top of the tower; outside it's growing dark but inside the atmosphere is classy, faint music playing and chatter from other tables filling in background noise.

Otabek's father asks for a tea and Otabek and his mother just take water. The waitress leaves them alone for a bit.

Some small talk, talk of Alina (she's at some STEAM competition group thing this weekend so she couldn't come), and then their drinks are here.

The conversation lulls and Otabek takes a sip of his water. He knows his parents can sense he has got something to say.

"So I won't stay too late here," he says. "Because I got in the concert because a friend did me a huge favor that I should return."

His mother frowns. "I thought it was just an audition process?"

"Yes, well, when they announced about the clarinet soloist and the program change, did you hear that?"

His father nods and his mother confirms.

"Well, another vocalist, he was planning to sabotage me, but my friend mixed up the plan and accidentally got her instead."

"Isn't that not allowed?" his mother exclaims.

"Of course not!" Otabek's a little nervous about all this explaining, but it's going all right so far. He has to backtrack a little bit. "So I have been doing some DJing on the side. With Yuri managing a lot of it. Most of it," Otabek explains. DJing? Not a positive. With Yuri? A positive. His mother nods.

"Yes," she says, apparently accepting. His father sips his coffee, listening.

"I, well, he, produced an EP for me and we had a release . . . party," Otabek says.

"You didn't mention anything about that," Otabek's mother frowns.

"I know, I didn't think you'd be interested." The truth? "I know you don't exactly think I should spend my time with that, but anyways, it was pretty easy with Yuri doing most of it."

He pauses, rubbing his fingers on the cold outside of the glass.

"And so your friend?"

"Well, Yuri actually . . . he agreed with this other guy, who was going to sabotage me, that he would let him do it. I don't know, Yuri got something out of it. And my friend intervened so I didn't end up out of the concert."

"Wait, Yuri Plisetsky . . . " Otabek's father trails questioningly.

"Yes," Otabek says. "I mean . . . " He sighs. He has to tell the truth. He can do at least that. And maybe only that. "We haven't had . . . the best relationship." He finds himself looking down. This, this scares him; he doesn't want to do this, to tell his parents this, because it will ruin the smiles they had earlier, the pride. "It's my fault for letting it happen."

"What do you mean?" His mother shakes her head. "What did you do?!"

". . . I haven't been so well since I broke it off with Jean," Otabek says, and in his ears the admission sounds ever so small. "And I've gone . . . well, I drank a bit . . . and stuff like that. And Yuri hasn't been good for me."

"Why didn't you tell us?! When did you start - " his mother starts exclaiming but then lowers her voice. "Yuri? Yuri Plisetsky tried to get you out of the concert?" she goes back, disbelievingly.

"No, but he let it happen," Otabek says. "And that would have been me! Out of the concert like the clarinet player! But my friend -"

"Who is this friend? How do you know -"

"-Jean," Otabek answers pre-emptively. His parents just look at him. It makes Otabek want to - he can't put it into words, this bad feeling that he knew was coming. "I don't know why he did it," Otabek says hurriedly. "But it's the reason I was on stage. The reason the scout noticed me. I just don't know where he is. I need to find him and at least say thank you."

"Beka-" his mother starts after a moment, but then, but  _then,_ Yuri Plisetsky walks in, all snide and nicely dressed, no sign of the earlier outburst.

Otabek half-rises. Feeling anger start to pound in his chest. How  _dare_ Yuri show his face!

"Yuri! Please," his mother says to their new guest, then to Otabek, "Beka," concerningly, in the tone of,  _Otabek, be polite and sit down._

Yuri slides in on the other side of the curved booth beside Otabek's father, shaking hands.

Otabek will  _not_ stand for this.

"Yuri, get out of here," he says.

"Beka!" his mother half-gasps.

"I already told you what he did," Otabek says, switching to Kazakh.

"What?" Yuri says.

"That you let Michele try and kick me out of the concert."

"Did you tell them that you've been using me to get drugs?" Yuri fires back.

"I was getting there!"

Both boys pause and look at the adults, who are slightly wide-eyed.

"And wait, I've been using  _you?_ " Otabek starts.

"I apologize, but we have had some troubles," Yuri says to Otabek's parents, "Actually, Otabek kicked me out without an explanation."

"The explanation was you betrayed me!"

The parents look from one to the other.

"Beka, please sit-" his mother starts.

"Look, I know things are difficult, especially after Otabek had troubles with his boyfriend, right?" Yuri begins again, directed to the parents. This statement -  _Yuri knows!_ \- he's picking at the weak spot - Otabek's too angry to retaliate. "But I thought we could get along better," Yuri continues. "And I don't know what he's talking about with the concert. I did a lot of work for managing his EP release event, I was busy the whole night and I think it was just unfortunate that a lot of people were jealous of Otabek."

"You-" Otabek starts, unable to finish the sentence, standing up fully and barely managing to not snap.

"Otabek, sit down and explain yourself," his mother says, her beautiful face frowning in disapproval.

"I did!" Otabek says, maybe a bit loud. "I'm your  _son!_ He's not! He's just an  _in_ to the business!" He's breathing hard. "Don't you trust me?"

Yuri is smirking very subtly at him but Otabek does not give one  _fuck._

"We trust you, of course, but you just admitted that there are some things that have happened . . ." his mother starts.

"We want to hear more of your story, too, Otabek," his father adds. "We'll help you out. Sit down, and . . ."

"Well I can't," Otabek says, voice low, leaving the booth, "I have to go find Jean. I owe it to him. And you do too, if you were really proud of me," he says, though maybe it's too quiet at the end to be heard. "I'm sorry," he says, and pulls on his jacket, and leaves his parents with whatever fantasy Yuri will tell them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some of this was hard to write but I hope I did ok


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which the fact to fiction ratio rises somewhat

"I dunno man, I'm going back to my place," is what Leo says to Otabek when Otabek arrives back at his dorm, to see if JJ returned there by any chance, but neither is JJ there nor is he returning Otabek's calls. On the contrary, Leo is there, grabbing his stuff and saying oh no, he doesn't really know where JJ is and he's not really concerned.

"No one knows where he is!" Otabek half-explodes. He's frustrated. He's rode a rollercoaster of lows and highs in the last 24 hours and there's no apparent end to the ride in sight. "He has to talk to the police, and I have to find him and explain to him . . . or at least just talk to him . . . "

"He's probably back at his place by now," Leo shrugs, pulling on his jacket with some geometric bird white-on-black embroidered, going to the mat where Otabek automatically shuffles aside to give him room to pull on his Timberlands.

"Yeah," Otabek says. He thinks for a moment. "Yes. Yes! Where does he live?"

"I dunno," Leo says again, lacing up his shoes.

"What? I thought you were friends."

"I thought  _we_ were friends too," Leo says, not too pointedly, but not harmlessly, either.

Otabek sighs hard through his nose. It's a fair point.

"Look, we hung out, k? But JJ has lots of other friends." Leo partially opens the door, taking his phone out of his pocket with the other. The sun is down now and the sky is growing a deepening grey-blue.

"Like who?" Otabek presses. "Leo I  _need to find him-_ "

"Yeah I get it, geez," Leo says, and Otabek steps back as soon as he's become aware he's gotten into Leo's personal space. It looks like Leo's thinking for some moments as they just stand in the open doorway, cold air and skiffs of snow dancing at the threshhold, Leo's hand on the doorknob. "I dunno who in particular though," Leo says after this deliberation.

"Come on!" Otabek leaves with Leo as he steps out and shuts the door behind him. "There has to be someone."

"I'm not his fucking bookkeeper," Leo says.

"Bookkeeper doesn't mean . . . never mind, do you at least know names?" Otabek says.

"Yeah sure but I don't have their numbers or anything."

Otabek looks over, overtop the administration building and past the library to the top of the engineering building. He grabs Leo's sleeve. "Hey, if we go there now, maybe there will be someone hanging around."

Leo gives a half-laugh that sounds either hopeless or derogatory, but he goes along with Otabek.

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The first floor of engineering gives them nothing. Otabek hasn't been this outgoing since he was 12 years old. He goes up to every table or bench of students studying or waiting for exams and asks them, do you know JJ? Because if they know JJ, they'll know who Otabek's talking about without any further description. He gets a lot of positives.  _Yeah, he's in block one right? Yeah, he was in my circuits class._ But then the more important questions,  _do you know where he is? Where he lives?_  all gather negatives. Otabek's increasingly puzzled by the large amount of people who know JJ but not well enough to know where he's at or where he lives.

The best he gets is the fact that his exam ended shortly after noon today. A couple of students said they didn't see him there, though. He was probably in the other gym, they say. Doesn't make Otabek any less concerned.

When they've finished going through the first floor, Otabek sighs and pushes his hair back, comes to a stop in front of a notice board that looks like it's recently been stripped, from the straggling shreds of posters that are still attached to some pins.

Leo claps his hand on Otabek's shoulder. "I'm headin' out, see you," he says.

"What?" Otabek says.

Leo's already backing away. "It's late, I'm done my exams, know some guys who are going to Shark Club. Too bad you ain't playing there, huh? See ya."

"But-"

"Look man, I only went along to see you get fucking destroyed, yeah? And sure I changed plans once JJ got there cause you owe me one now. But I don't owe you anything."

"But JJ-"

"He's probably at home, man." Leo yawns. "Don't know why you're so fucking concerned all of a sudden. Wouldn't trust it if I were him."

Leo turns and heads off with a single wave backward, the obscure symbolic embroidered logo on the back of his jacket staring at Otabek as Leo recedes. Otabek looks after him. Then rubs his eyes. Then heads for what must be the staircase to the second floor.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Second floor has fewer people than the first. Mostly single people at their latops with headphones in. Otabek goes past the first such student, thinking not to interrupt them, but changes his mind and backtracks to talk to them.

A half hour later he's ended up in some older and emptier wings a couple times but is certain he's covered all the ground. Well, there's a third and fourth floor.

Those are even emptier and still no good news.  _Yes, they know JJ- no, they don't know where he lives or where he is_. Some people offer to call him. Otabek says he's done that already and thanks them and leaves.

He goes to sit on the geometric assortment of benches and cushions in open space on the second floor. He's out of floors. Out of options. JJ doesn't answer; he has a missed call from his mother and that's it. He sits with his head in his hands. Not physically tired, but he feels exhausted.

Of a sudden his phone buzzes, but when he pulls it out in a hurry, it's Alina on Messenger.

Alina: oooooo hear there's more drama going on

Otabek thumbs a reply. He's an awfully inaccurate typist, but autocorrect hides it. Not like he's been any more transparent with Alina than with his parents, but they don't talk much, so he hasn't told any lies. Kept sending the odd meme.

Otabek: Yes, Yuri got me in shit and I kicked him out.

Alina: ooooooo what kinda shit

Otabek: He basically let someone try to kick me out of the concert.

Alina: but didnt work?

Otabek: No,

Otabek pauses and backspaces the comma to replace it with a period. But then he thinks again. He's in deeper than he'd like and it wouldn't hurt to get some commentary.

Otabek: No, JJ from last semester stopped it all.

Otabek waits pensively for the three dots bubbling bright and dark to change into something legible.

Alina: wait your ex? Oh mYGOD dont twll me youve been with him still all this time

Otabek: No not at all! I didn't expect it. And now I think I should at least find him and say thanks but I don't know where he is.

Alina: what u mean u dont know where he js?

Alina's even worse at texting intelligibly than JJ. It's annoying and endearing.

Otabek: Well, I had a release party and the guys who were trying to kick me out of the concert basically grabbed JJ when the cops got to the scene, drove off, dumped him, and I went to find him with someone else. He slept at my apartment but then I had to go see the parents at the airport and go to the rehearsal and concert... He had an exam apparently but now I've lost him and I don't know where he is.

Otabek eyes this wall of text but sends it anyways.

Alina: i dont get it so u dumoe dhim for real?

Otabek: Yeah I broke it off.

Alina: u still like him tho?

"I never stopped," Otabek murmurs to himself, but he doesn't know what to type.  _I just screwed up. It doesn't matter if I still loved him. It wasn't right that_  ... ' _That_ ' seems to just be the pained look on JJ's face that still stains Otabek's mind's eye.  _It wasn't right that after I fucked Mila and ... It wasn't right that mother and father have given me so much and I would go and disappoint them ..._ But he's lived the past four months trying to prove it wasn't right, that it still isn't right, and sitting here now, the past 24 hours are heavy hands on his shoulders that force him to turn.

What's right and what's wrong?

Wrong is the red scars from a lover-who-never-loved. Wrong is everything Otabek's done to himself to prove he can pretend he's right. Wrong is how his parents will profess their pride for Otabek but carry no concern for the one who brought him to where he stands. Wrong is standing with his back to the light, too weak for anything like forgiveness. So, incomplete and fallible though it is, is his love still right?  _So should his love be_ : he owes. And the right thing to do is pay it back to whom it is due.

Otabek: Yes.

I can't pretend.

 _(Anymore_.)

Alina: wwll go find him

It's getting late now, digging into 9 p.m. Otabek rubs his eyes and stands. He needs sleep. If he sleeps, maybe he'll be able to think more clearly. Just a short sleep. Wake up and find JJ before his parents have to leave tomorrow morning (and Otabek supposedly with them).

So he heads back to his dorm, frustrated that nothing's working but needing to be alone with himself for a bit. Maybe sleep will fit all the disrupted pieces of everything he's made himself out to be back together again. Or maybe he can't do that by himself.

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It's hard to say if he's sitting still or not when he's this dizzy. His stomach clutches on nothing and it doesn't feel good. He'd rather not try to move any extremities cause it feels like he doesn't have a good chance of controlling any motion right now so he just sits. Are his eyes closed? No . . . there are colors . . . but his eyes won't focus, they'll only present him with the soup of warm bright colors that is the illuminated interior of the train car. The automated voice announcing whatever-it's-supposed-to thickly floats through his ears.

JJ thinks the train has stopped moving but he can't be sure. He keeps sitting. Intermediately he clenches his hands together, fingers interlaced, elbows propped on his knees. The aftertaste of blood still lingers in his mouth and the inside of his lip hurts, and he's dirtied the legs and ass of his jeans from the scrum and those hurt too, but it hurts more to breathe, he's trying not to breathe so deeply, the kick or whatever it was to his ribs and stomach wasn't as glancing as it felt in the moment. There are people in his peripheral, and then there aren't. He sits. Then someone comes on the train through the flashing doors that slide aside. Comes right up to him. Says something to him. JJ doesn't respond. Not 'cause he chooses to! Somehow he just can't, or his brain and lungs and vocal chords won't work in the perfect harmony needed to produce a coherent answer. The man's saying something about end-of-the-line. All JJ can do is nod his head commiseratingly.

But then the man (it is a man, grey and dark blue dressed) helps him up and JJ's body complains of being stretched out and his legs have to shuffle out and he's taken into the indoors terminal. The man lets him go and JJ sinks down onto the stone bench inside. The man keeps talking to him! JJ just shakes his head, hoping he'll leave. He doesn't. JJ switches to nodding. This seems to work. Eventually the security guard leaves.

The only thing that makes JJ get to his feet eventually is some ingrained instinct that tells him not to keep staying there, and the thought that Bella is coming to get him tomorrow. He can still face that, right? Can he face her? The first time he tries to get to his feet it doesn't work. Second time it does. He walks to the bottom of the stairs, must be three flights, but looks like seven and feels like seventy once he starts going up.

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JJ's worn fake-lace-up-actually-zip-up ankle boots lodge themselves in the sticky skiff of snow on the pedestrian overpass. Is it cold? He can't tell. He feels, oddly enough, almost like he's dozing off watching a movie where the movie is his slow-but-steady progress towards the bus loop: but it's not restful at all.

A train must have come in. A warm flurry of people hurrying home sweep past him. Most of them are wearing their winter coats again. A wind tosses one woman's grey-silked black hair as her thick heels clomp and she wrests her handbag higher on her shoulder.

There are comforting orange lights of buses waiting for these people. Are they waiting for JJ, too? Is anyone waiting for him? His throat constricts with sadness in answer to that thought.

Maybe he should get on a bus. He's got an arm wrapped around his midsection cause it still hurts. He's still wearing Beka's scarf. Beka's old scarf. That's something he can't lose, eh? Memories? He wants to bark a laugh at himself and everything else his life's become into the cold air but again his body doesn't seem like it's ready to do the task. Should he get on a bus? This one? Is it his? They're all the small size so it's hard to tell. He walks up to the first one and squints at the orange number above his head. Sure, this is probably the right one. He can't remember right now. He gets on, and that's big enough of an accomplishment for now.

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All those months of speeding ahead, all those months of his mind running so fast nothing makes sense except  _find the surface area of a parabola rotated around the x axis_  - and now it's slowing down. Now he can't seem to move his feet fast enough, even if fast enough is a normal pace.

He misses his stop because it comes up too quickly. Almost like he's watching the nighttime sidewalks, punctuated by streetlights' orange glow, blur by in reduced fps. So at least he rings the bell and gets off at the next stop. Now the challenge of not forgetting where he is. JJ doesn't feel cold, but why's he shivering?

Walking back, it's still as the night indeed, and the situation he's in seems to drown him as deep as the sea would.

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JJ ends up at the doorstep of the right house. How does he know? It has the right security sign sticking in the lawn and the right little tree fielded in the right oval of rocks in the yard. Oh and it has the cobbled driveway too. It's certainly a much nicer house than JJ's family's back home, but it's all just for show isn't it? They go to church but JJ's sure that's just for show, too, cause JJ's own parents go to church (used to go to the same church!) and they're not like this -and Helen is volunteer chair of this and that which is probably also just for show - he's standing on the doorstep and - speaking of Helen, he doesn't know what he's in for 'cause he wasn't home last night and it shouldn't matter - but - and he has to be quiet - he can see there is a light on inside the porch they must have left on for him so he digs in his pants pocket, luckily the key is still there nestled with his ID card - and shakily unlocks the door and goes in.

It's quiet. 10 p.m. or so. JJ hurts. His head hurts, his body hurts, he mostly packed everything to go - oh boy he remembers Helen should be busy with her parents by now - he still doesn't know what she'll be able to find in the inspection after he's gone, you know, after she's not so busy with her parents- so he should make sure everything is clean and better than when he found it and even if he messed something up really he's been cleaning two floors of the house for the whole year when he only rents a room so they should be nice - should be - leaning on a wall, he rips off his shoes and struggles them into the closet, clicks off the light and treads as lightly as he can downstairs.

He makes it into his room and tries to hold himself back from the edge for a moment, he's the king, after all, according to Jenay and he wants to do them proud - his family - he wants to give back what they've invested in him and more - prove that no one can defeat him -and maybe that's true if you took JJ himself out of the picture, his stupid heart that still needs someone he doesn't have and his stupid mind that doesn't work right without stupid pills -

There is a light on in the stairwell suddenly and JJ turns, startled, his door's still ajar and there's Helen with no makeup, her hair wrapped up in a towel and in pajamas. Immediately Helen starts talking at JJ. About Bella. Something like Bella didn't even come in to say hi. JJ starts trying to explain she didn't actually come but gives up because it's a better excuse than the one he's got for his late arrival.

"Why didn't you invite her in?" Helen says but it doesn't sound friendly for some reason.

"I..." JJ trails, trying to fish for the explanation that she'll be here tomorrow for sure. "Well it's 10 so I - I didn't think you'd be up - or want visitors- and I thought you were busy with your parents..."

"You've been telling her stuff, haven't you," Helen says in the middle of this while JJ's trying to mentally catch up to himself - Helen  _is_  in her pajamas after all and doesn't look like she's ready for visitors - now - what, is she accusing him? Well he  _has_  been telling Bella stuff - like he hates having to come back here at the end of the day- but he's allowed to! Isn't he? None of Helen's business! He's tried to keep the peace! He's kept his end of the deal despite everything: the passive agressive ban on food, the silent or implied dissatisfaction with his performance in pretty much everything from cleaning to helping Helen with food to - well they left him alone by himself in the house - doesn't that mean they trust him?!

"It doesn't- have anything to do with you Helen," JJ says, but his heart rate is rising and he's feeling panic tighten all his muscles. Because he really hasn't told Helen anything about how unhappy he is here - and  _that's like lying isn't it_ \- but he fears what would happen if he did - he's got no one else to take him in in the whole damn city - "I can invite her in tomorrow morning if you-"

"No, it's fine," Helen says in a tone that means it's not fine. "I'm not judging you, but I know you've been telling her things!"

What is this tirade at such a late hour, Helen standing backlit by the light from the stairs just outside his room - JJ can't deal with this, he doesn't know what it means - Helen's never used this tone with JJ yet, only with her children. What does he do?! What does he say?! "It has nothing to do with you-" he tries to calm her.

"You've been talking to your parents too, haven't you? As good Christians, I expect them to talk to me if there's a problem! I gave you a cut on rent because I was friends with your mom!"

JJ's like a deer in the headlights, reeling as Helen keeps up her speech - she has control on him as far as - as far as how much she'll make him pay after he's gone - and as far as she's- she's- why's JJ so afraid of her? why - he's tried really hard to do what she wants to keep things calm long enough until JJ can leave - keep her calm - s'pose that makes him subordinate to her - s'pose that puts her in control - he can't handle this, he doesn't know what's caused her to go off like this or how to make her stop and go away and JJ doesn't like not knowing! She's spewing more things about Christians!  _It has nothing to do with you_ , JJ keeps trying to say and - and well - eventually she reaches the point, "I know you didn't come home last night!" like it's a crime, like JJ is trying to hide it.

"I know- I-I'm sorry I lost my phone and-"

"I'm sure you have a story for that but you should have let me know," Helen says and JJ's pretty sure she's looking at the bruise on his cheek. "Good night!"

And with that, she's back up the stairs and gone. JJ stands there. He's vaguely aware of what's coming. He can't stop it. No, he can!- he won't break - he goes to the washroom maybe to check the bruise- but his throat starts clutching. He leans on the edge of the sink. No! No, he's not going to freak out - - but he doesn't get to choose and there's no one reflected in the mirror behind him, ready to help him, bring him down.

JJ can't breathe and his vision goes to just a single spot he's not even really aware of - gasping for air, oh  _god how is he gonna leave the house tomorrow how's he gonna leave what is she gonna make him pay why did he have to miss his final what's he gonna do without a scholarship what's he gonna tell Bella and tell his parents and how's he gonna keep living_ \- all this doesn't exactly articulate itself, just slams down on JJ's airways and chest and heart and his palm presses into the cool white smooth rim of the sink and that's all he can feel, like his consciousness has only left 20% of itself in him still. He doesn't try to calm himself. He can't! He's too - oh  _god_  - oh no - oh no  _no no_ \- it's all bad - it's all gone bad - he's done for - oh no  _oh no oh no oh no_ -

Finally he finds himself staggering, nearly, back to his room and collapsing, on the bed, on top of the quilt, he has to get up early tomorrow morning because Helen said he had to wash all the sheets before he leaves - He finds himself wanting to cry because at least maybe it'll make him feel better, but he can't, he just hurts and the next best thing is sleep but he's terrified and anxious out of his mind.

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11:45 p.m.

Should he tell Helen? Tomorrow morning? What he's really thought of her? What he truly feels like? Yes! Yes, at least they can part ways with JJ having said his piece...

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12:15 a.m.

No, he just has to have Bella smile and nod and leave, who knows, if Helen gets angry - if he upsets her more he's probably on the hook for a bigger damage cheque after he leaves ...

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2:34 a.m. Where's his phone? He has to call Bella! Or his parents! Tell them what happened! It was so weird right?! Maybe they can tell him what to do?

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4:47 a.m. He can't have Bella come in. He can't have Helen getting - getting like that with Bella. He's not inviting her in and he doesn't care what Helen thinks of that.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Otabek wakes up at 7 a.m. He slept longer than he wanted and worse than he wanted. Too many dreams. The weird sort that mix your real life regrets with horrific and nearly comedic things that would never really happen.

He bolts up and feels a little better at least. Where is JJ? Otabek's not going back to Kazakhstan without resolving this. Even if it makes his parents go without. He should call them first. Then after, he'll maybe make another round in the engineering building and hope for the best.

He calls them. Nothing new in call logs. He had his phone volume on loud if it was JJ's number, but the ringtone clearly never woke him. His mother answers and sounds slightly distressed. Otabek wants to keep it short. He tells her he's still planning to make the flight. He still needs to find JJ. She tells him to hurry. They would like to still spend time with him here; they have matters to talk about; is this his party venue in the news that had a fire, cause still under investigation? Yes, they do have things to talk about, and Otabek promises he's trying to get things done. But trying to talk to his parents over the sound of the tune Yuri's played them last night: well, that's something he's not rushing into right now.

As he's stuffing his feet in his shoes, having grabbed an energy bar from the cupboard, the apartment feeling bare and not like a living space at all with Yuri gone, he dials JJ's number again, although he's losing hope.

No answer. He listens through a few rings, hand on the doorknob, not wanting to go out into the wind and snow just yet (it's really a yucky day for end of April). Sighing, he lowers the phone from his ear but leaves his thumb hovering over the red icon to hang up because he hears something.

The terrible realization dawns on him: JJ left his phone here.

Otabek stays calm in spite of his own ignorance suddenly revealed to him, takes off his boots, doesn't hang up and follows the ringtone tune to behind a couch cushion. He pulls JJ's phone out. It's like finding a lost key or suddenly remembering your password: here it is! Now he can find JJ.

Mentally kicking himself for not thinking of the possibility that JJ might not have taken his phone with him until now, he quickly unlocks the phone (old code still does it). A few missed calls. Text lets down from the top of the screen: "Bella". Perfect. She'll know where JJ is.

But she also knows who Otabek is, or who he was, to JJ. Probably doesn't know about what's happened, unless JJ called her while Otabek was out at rehearsal or concert. She might not want Otabek to go looking for JJ. But from how it looks, Otabek is really Bella's only option if she's miles away.

So he calls her.

Rings once. Rings tw-

"Jay! Oh my god JJ why did you hang up on me so fast yesterday?!" Bella's voice, very faintly familiar, comes.

"Sorry, it's not him," Otabek says. He doesn't feel sure of himself. "This is. . . um, Otabek," he manages.

"Oh," and then a break of just static. Then, "Why? Where's JJ?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm calling you."

"What? You don't know? You have his phone?"

Otabek sighs, and it feels harsh in his throat. "Long story short, he took a hit for me, got jumped by some guys in music, me and another guy found him and he slept here at the dorm - that was last, no, two nights ago - and as far as I know he wrote an exam but he left his phone here and I don't know where he is. I asked around but no one seems to know either. Where does he live?"

"Wait, so when he called me yesterday-"

"He called you yesterday?!"

"Yeah, not from this phone."

"What did he say?"

"Not much, I barely had time to tell him I wasn't coming yesterday night because roads were bad and he-"

"You're coming? Coming to pick him up?"

"Yes, I am," Bella says and the tone half-relays  _that's none of your business._

Back on track.

"Where does he live?" Otabek repeats.

"In the north end - wait, so lemme get this straight, he got jumped doing something for you and slept over and then disappeared? He probably wrote his exam and went home-"

"He wasn't looking too good, he left his phone here, and no one said they actually saw him in the exam," Otabek says, brusque.

"Yeah. . . yeah, ok." Otabek gets the impression that it's not hard for Bella to believe him. "How bad was he?" she asks.

"I don't know," Otabek says. "I haven't seen him for weeks. And then he just showed up- . . ." Otabek doesn't want to sound at all like he's assuming himself to be more than he is. "I know you know what went on between us, all right, but I just want to find him, see if he's safe and thank him, or if I can't do that, maybe you could."

There's a pause as if Bella's deciding. Then, "I'm still an hour out, probably more. Ok, I'll give you the address." She gives him the location and makes him promise to call, which Otabek does. No goodbyes: she hangs up and Otabek bundles up to go back outside, urgency of the task he now knows he can complete fuelling him as he dashes on the paths towards the train station.

When he's safely on the platform and breathing hard, next train set to come in a few minutes, he checks the time. He has a very slim window of time if he's to fly back with his parents and it's really . . . well, it  _is_ this: fly back with his parents or go find JJ. Otherwise, no kidding himself, he won't make the deadline for checking in and they probably won't let him on the plane.

So he calls his parents. He talks softly when his mother answers.

"I'm sorry, I have to take the next flight," he says. There is some protest.  _What can be so important? Take care of it from a distance._  Otabek sighs. "I didn't explain all the way, but I really owe JJ one. Really, I do. It would be terrible of me to just leave. I'll see you soon."

He hangs up as the train is pulling up and the standard safety announcement crackles over the speakers.

Damn Yuri for wrecking his bike; if he ever needed it, it's now.

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JJ's not sure if he actually slept at all. He closed his eyes a few times but it feels like his brain never snuggled in and rolled over and blacked out for a decent amount of time. He feels like he's lived out this morning in several different scenarios, all equally terrifying, through dreams he's all forgotten, or that were never solid to begin with.

He washed his bedsheets at 6:30 a.m. He started bringing up his boxes to the landing. Slowly. To be quiet. But also because - because his knee hurts, OK, and his stomach and ribs hurt (and he refuses to look at it and just try to ignore it for now). He had food. He had an assortment of cereal. Before anyone got up. He  _knows_ he'll have to talk to Helen eventually - eventually Helen and the girls and Jacob get up and luckily the kids' screaming and crying and complaining ( _Mommy . . . I asked for Cheerios! You didn't give me Cheerios! . . ._ daily, it is) distracts Helen so at least JJ can bite his lip and pretend there's nothing to talk about as he passes through the same space as her, but the threat of oncoming conversation wills his knees to buckle even more than the boxful of papers and binders and textbooks.

After last night, he has no clue what Helen's gonna pull! What's she gonna do when Bella gets here? Demand that she come in to visit,  _or else?!_ JJ wishes he hadn't lost his phone! Wishes he hadn't lost so much of his sanity! But there's no going back!

Doesn't look like Helen's very busy with her parents, after all, JJ thinks as he's placed the last box and rushes back downstairs to hide. Ohhhh  _no,_ he needs his phone so he can know when Bella gets here and so he can go out to meet her and explain - then, inconveniently, he remembers he missed his last exam and - and - he's failed - the slivers of hope and fortitude the night had allowed him to gather splinter and fall away suddenly in the bare room and he crumples against a wall, door shut, breathing hard and fast - suddenly he's feeling sick - this explodes inside him, the angry thought -  _why am I even trying?!_ why has anyone  _ever_ believed him or trusted him or invested in him - he's let everyone down - and now knowing he has to handle Helen-and-Bella-and-leaving seems invariably, impassibly,  _unmistakably_ insurmountable. He somehow makes it next door to the bathroom and accidentally slams the door shut with a  _bang_ and throws up, stomach clenching, and it  _hurts,_ and soon he's got the acid taste in his mouth and spit dripping off his lips and his stomach's still squeezing in on itself, vision all spots -

\- back of his hand roughly swipes his lips, he barely manages to flush the toilet then fall back against the wall, slumped so his tailbone's on the hard tile and  _god his stomach hurts,_ he's still half-choking and dizzy, spots won't go away, he can't do this - he can't do  _anything -_ he's dry sobbing - there's no one there for him! - no one! he can't face Helen he can't tell everyone he's autofailed his last exam and he's out of scholarships and out of love - love - god this is what this is all about - he loves Beka, isn't that what he told Michele?! Coughing, still struggling for breaths, he feels his mouth contort with sadness - no, it's not just that, he  _needs_ Beka, it was almost like magic, damn it it  _was_ magic because all Beka'd have to do is face him straight on and look at him and tell him to breathe and JJ would be able to breathe - look at him and tell him he could  _live_ and he would - if they had been together - JJ wouldn't have ended up like this maybe - at least not so bad -  _he wouldn't be here_ \- the raw need hits JJ like a tidal wave, blazingly cold if that were possible and his lungs are shocked down to the reserve volume you can never breathe out no matter how hard you try. No matter how hard you try! He sobs for breaths, but doesn't get any. He needs him, so bad,  _so bad so bad,_ fate, right? - fated to fail, no matter how hard- how hard he tries.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The train, of course, has to pick this particular point in time to stop at a station . . . and stay stopped. There's a moderate amount of people in the car. They scroll through their phones or close their eyes, or talk on the bluetooth pieces in their ears, unconcerned if they should arrive five minutes late for work.

Otabek doesn't want these mechanical issues. He wants to get to JJ's address  _now._ With this delay, there's no chance that he could make the flight. No turning back. There's never any turning back, really, but you get to choose which way to go forward.

Well, Otabek's decided his path.

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JJ has gathered himself together enough to stand. That's enough breakdowns for 12 hours! He has to hold it together! He splashes his face with water and re-cleans everything just in case. Helen will probably find something anyways! JJ feels even worse now, head hot and stomach still off, but he knows Jacob's leaving soon and at least he should be decent and shake hands . . . never mind that his hands shake themselves . . . so he goes up where Jacob is putting his shoes on at the door and starts saying goodbyes, and Jacob makes a comment about Bella not coming into visit, but it's kinder and not as suspicious and accusing as Helen said the same last night.

"Well, I don't know, it's her choice I guess," JJ says; with any luck, Bella will be late enough Helen will already have left with the children.

But then Helen comes in from the laundry room and JJ jerks to attention and takes up her husband's comment. She starts talking to Jacob. "See, he won't tell us why she's not coming in."

JJ blanches. "I don't know -"

Helen points at JJ. "He has to tell us! He  _has to tell us!_ " she yells and JJ's brain doesn't know what sense to make of this outburst, he's - he doesn't know what to do - he's shaking his head and trying to say, you know, it's just her - ask her if you want to know! Call her! See where she is! Helen's still yelling and pointing at JJ and JJ flinches because she just might  _hit_ him it seems for a second -

\- but thank  _God_ for Jacob who says,

"He doesn't have to tell us," Jacob says and JJ catches a breath, the moment slowing down as he watches Helen to see if this will have any tranquilizing effect - Helen's arm drops - she looks at JJ - but falls silent. It worked. It worked, oh  _thank god someone has some kind of control on her -_ and Jacob says something to the effect that if Bella or JJ's parents have any issues with them they would bring it up, but still leaves cordially and JJ stammers out a  _thank you_ and  _goodbye_ and doesn't even look at Helen, just rushes back downstairs. To hide from everything. He closes his door and flattens himself against the wall.

That didn't just happen, did it? Did it? He remembers his stomach hurts. And feels back. His mouth tastes like - it's not acid - blood again. He ignores it. What does he do? What just happened? Will Helen -

And someone knocks on his door.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Finally Otabek gets to the end of the line, disembarks, goes out to the bus loop, pulls out the instructions on his phone, JJ's phone heavy in his other pants pocket. He squints at the various numbered signs. There aren't any buses in yet, and streetlamps are still on even as the horizon is lightening to a grey.

He finds the marked stop he's supposed to wait at. As he's calling the bus schedule service, there crawls a vehicle down the hill that might be the bus he wants. He listens to the automated voice as it prompts him for the route number; he strains on his tiptoes to see if that's the bus he wants as it comes closer.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

JJ throws the door open before - well, before Helen does.

But it's Thalia.

She hugs him faster than he can start to realize who it is or respond accordingly. She gives him a drawing! He fumbles with it and then Kira runs in and tackles onto the two of them and they're both giving him enthusiastic goodbyes.  _Are you coming back? You never took me to your school! You're going to come back in the summer? Is your school done?_ JJ tries his best to answer the tornado of questions but then Helen's calling the girls for school and they say their very last goodbyes and run back upstairs.  _Bye!_ JJ calls after them and he looks at the drawing from Thalia. It's supposed to be a portrait of himself, he guesses.

The kids are brats, but it's not their fault, and when they're not being actively bratty, they are very cute and lovable. And JJ can appreciate their endless ability to drive their mother up the wall.

Sounds from upstairs indicate the kids are getting dressed to head off to school. So Helen's just gonna leave? JJ doesn't have any nerve left to say goodbye to her out of politeness, he'll just hide -

But Helen comes downstairs, too.

At this point, JJ just tries to hold himself steady and try to make his ears not hear anything because he's not gonna be able to make sense of it anyways.

And he can't. Helen repeats herself,  _I know you've been telling Bella and your parents things,_ she says, and: "I've done nothing wrong!": but JJ hasn't said a word, hasn't insinuated any of that he's sure, he's been the epitome of nonconfrontational, hasn't accused Helen of anything - because there's always the chance it's really his fault - "I'm not judging Bella or your parents, but it's a small world and -" Helen keeps going off, something about  _it's a small world and she knows everything comes back for you in the end, Bella can do this but mark her words -_ something about this, something about that -  _as far as I'm concerned I've done nothing wrong!_ \- JJ really  _really really_ wants to squeeze his eyes shut but he makes himself stand straight and nod and look awake and he fits in one last desperate,

"It's got nothing to do with you," and then Helen gives him a very stiff hug goodbye and goes upstairs and it's like the most  _blessed sound in the world_ when the garage door closes and the house falls silent.

JJ just collapses to sit dazedly on the ground.

Did all that just happen? Has all of this just happened? He wants to feel relieved but he can't because - maybe he should have told Helen what he thought - he just kept saying it had nothing to do with her because - because he wanted her out of his hair, he wanted her to stop and go away and - he was afraid - it was  _sort of lying_ to say it didn't have anything to do with her and maybe he shouldn't have handled the whole thing how he did - and is Bella coming and when will she come because - Helen gets back around 10:30 -

\- JJ needs to call her. But he doesn't have his phone! Why does his mouth still taste like blood? He tries to get up but is rewarded with dotty vision so sits back down.

Maybe Bella shouldn't come for him.

What's the use of going back anyways? He'll ruin the fun they're supposed to have on the way back. And he'll ruin everything to tell them that he failed his last exam.

If he can't - if he can't even deal with Helen over cleaning a damn kitchen appliance, how can he face this task? Telling everyone he failed? When they believed in him?

He can't.

No one should have to deal with him.

Suddenly the house is too close. Stuffy. JJ's been here for too long, cumulative. He hates this past semester. He wants it purged out of his life. And maybe the one before that, because let's be honest, without that one, this one wouldn't have happened. And maybe before that. And before that. He's pulling on his shoes. How did he even get upstairs? Beats him!  _And before that._ What's his field of vision? Limited! Breathing capacity? Limited! Holistic ability to function? Very limited! But there's no point anymore!  _And before that._ He's leaving the house. He doesn't lock the door. But he  _has_ to! He can't even serve his own spite! He locks it - all his stuff is on the porch for easy loading -  _and before that_ \- no one, certainly  _no one_ should have to deal with him, what's the point anymore! What's the point!

 _And before that,_ he's running, the last of what's left in him, every step hurts, up jolting through his knee and midsection and his bruised cheek in the cold that hangs humid in the air as his shoes half-skid, half-stop in the snow on the downhill sidewalk -  _and before that,_ he doesn't care, anything he does will hurt, anything he does won't matter, he doesn't want it to matter anymore, it  _shouldn't because it's not worth it and no one should have to deal with him!_

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A fierce knock on the door of house #44 on this street. No answer. Doorknob turns and the visitor shoves his weight against it; nothing gives, it's locked.

He eyes the stack of boxes and a couple bins on the porch.

He looks down at the inch of snow on the ground mottled with footprints.

Three different sets.

He knocks at the door again and waits.

Still no answer.

He turns and walks down the couple porch steps, eyes on the ground. He follows the tracks to the edge of the driveway. Where he's come from, two sets of footprints go: one, his own. And in the other direction, a different set.

In the grey morning, snow falling, Otabek closes his eyes and thinks.

Then he turns to follow the lone set in the unfamiliar direction.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

Somehow JJ's ended up at the train station at the bottom of the hill, past the couple big churches, past the park around the dugout. His sensory systems are on the fritz, his brain's on the fritz, so his motor systems are on the fritz as well and all he knows is he doesn't want any of  _it,_ whether  _it_ is to see Helen or Bella or his parents or even Beka, because who's he  _kidding_ Beka doesn't need any of this in his life,  _this_ being JJ -

\- JJ and all his choices and trying and failures.

He's tripping on a curb. He's scuffing on concrete, he's staggering and maybe he'll run himself into the ground (but he doesn't) and he's hit by a gust of wind and  _where is he?_ \- he looks out and down and there are snaking parallel lines of warm lights divided into their lanes, coming and going, set apart by a thick stripe of dark cably wires over tracks and a far-off, a far-off little red bar that says a train's coming and he's leaning on the slanting, thick rails of the pedestrian overpass - he closes his eyes like that'll fix it all - it doesn't - maybe vertigo will, he shifts his weight forward, past feeling sick, past feeling empty, past feeling love or regret or guilt or anxiety: next stop, nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'cably' is indeed a word i have ordained it thus


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dis one hurt like a binch but it's also the most positive sounding chapter for the first time in forever

But someone calls his name and he straightens, pulling back from the edge.

_JJ!_

It's just his imagination. Right? But he still turns and looks. His vision doesn't want to cooperate. But there's a figure, moving, running.

"JJ!"

It's Otabek: he's imagining it. He has to be. But he doesn't care for reality. If this is what his fucked up nervous system gives him he'll take it.

Otabek runs to him -  _well, it's Beka, isn't it,_ because that's what JJ's mind keeps alive - right up to him, snow falling, grey dawn, wind gusts.

JJ sways on his feet. The muscles of his face pull. Painful smile? Maybe seeing things that aren't there isn't so bad after all, if they look like this: Otabek's deep brown eyes, dark hair, strong stature, exact curve of his lips, and brow gathered in worry as wisps of his hair fall in his face, or some to the side.

JJ's lips form the name of the apparition:  _Beka._

"I've been looking everywhere. . ." is all JJ hears because everything else fades out to just looking at his face. Impulsively he reaches out to touch Beka's face but shivering fingers stop short: he doesn't want the inevitable disappointment when he reaches nothing but air. So his hand hovers and he looks: looks at his prize he never won, a mystery, a lost key he'll never reclaim. It's probably better this way. But still, his feet move to follow as he's beckoned, called: to some place of no consequence, on a ghost's instructions it can only be such - but this is the fate he likes best, even if it  _is_ false.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He's finally found him! "I've been looking everywhere for you," he spills, all the pent-up worry and effort now can be stamped as well-spent, well-lived, "why are you out here? You left your phone and I called Bella, she's coming to get you, right? So you should get back, I saw your boxes. . . " But during this flood of words his pace of speech slows because standing there and looking at JJ he can tell JJ's so out of it, his eyes looking past Otabek, in the grey morning seeming to have lost some of their blue.

Otabek's words grind to a halt as JJ reaches for him, to touch his cheek; he's smiling but even though it's small the expression seems splitting and sad; but Otabek's cheek is yet cold and JJ stays silent and still and they don't touch, though his arm is outstretched, hand hovering.

Hair ruffles in breeze; transfixion; trembling. It's been so long, so long since they were this close and this alone, but Otabek's chest tightens because he knows it just looks this way. It's just an apparition: they're really so far apart, separated by so much spent time and so many other intrusions and expectations that Otabek can't imagine ever being able to close the distance.

But here he is, trying.

JJ's not even wearing long sleeves, only a T shirt. Even for JJ, surely this is unintentional. Otabek finally says, so quiet and low his voice cracks, "Come on."

The lapse between this and Otabek turning to lead the way back is long. Maybe if he loses sight of him again . . . maybe JJ will just disappear. . . . but Otabek turns, and, he beckons and looks over his shoulder and JJ is there, following wordlessly, so terrifyingly silent.

They make it to the terminal, just emptying as a train pulls away, top floor for Otabek to call Bella.

When they get in the doors JJ just stands there. In the middle of the walkway. Otabek has to pull him to the side, as he takes out his phone. (JJ's). "I'm calling Bella, ok?" he tries to assure JJ.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

Several waves of emotions flush through JJ as Otabek's hand wraps around his arm, pulls him physically to the side of the terminal, and lets go.

One is shock. It isn't his ghost, Beka. Oh no! This is - this is real life,  _in the flesh_ Otabek - and has he resurrected JJ's memories or is he the same Otabek that left him, that cut him off and refused any help? -

Two is elation. A high that peaks too fast to be named. Otabek's here he  _came back for him he's here -_

Three sets him questioning, confused, why is he here -  _why did he come to find -_

And four, panic. If this is Otabek - he - JJ- JJ knows, somewhere in his mind, how he is,  _OK?!_ He knows what he looks like, he knows how much control over himself he's lost, he - he doesn't want Otabek to see him like this, he's in too deep and he shouldn't pull anyone in after him 'least of all the  _half-that-should-be-whole_ \- so he stumbles away, his feet take him sprinting off again, doesn't matter which way - down the stairs it is - Otabek yelling after him, "JJ!" - no! Otabek can't come for him, he can't  _he shouldn't_ JJ deserves - but JJ has only gotten down to the first landing when suddenly his head scrambles and swims, his lungs and heart start fluttering and he feels his knees giving in and - he's held it together enough hasn't he? Now he's lost command of all his faculties, he can only push them so far: vision fades and his consciousness stretches out to leave him, going very far away as fast as JJ wanted to run, wanted to but couldn't. His hand has swatted out for the guide rail but hasn't latched on and now he's just dropping, maybe backwards maybe forwards, all that's certain is he's falling - but he's already out, his body's not committed to bracing itself any longer.

xxxxxxxxx

JJ's slipping down the first flight of stairs and Otabek lunges out to try to stop him but he is still committed to holding the phone to his ear with a hand, waiting for Bella to answer. But when JJ gets to the first landing and half-turns, unsteady, and when Otabek sees him reach for the guardrail but miss and stumble, Otabek literally drops the phone, flies down the flight of stairs and lunges to wrap his arms around JJ who's going/gone limp and drag the weight's momentum back: he manages it, pulling back before JJ can tumble like a test dummy. Otabek stumbles back himself and tries to keep them up with a hand on the rail but they go down on the landing, Otabek's ass hitting the concrete grimy with melted snow and dirt. He quickly pushes himself back up sitting and turns JJ over in his lap but JJ's dead weight, he's out. Otabek's hand goes to the side of his face, feeling his breathing so that's a positive: "JJ," he says, not expecting a response and not getting one. Biting his lip, he hauls the man up so he's over one shoulder, a dangling and oversized load (feels too light though) and eyes the flight of stairs back to the top before stomping determinedly back up.

When he reaches the floor a horde of new people from a recently arrived bus are coming in: Otabek puts his load down in a slumped sit by the windowed wall and dashes for the phone as the crowd engulfs him.

He manages to pick it up and trace a possible path through the flow of moving bodies he's at a right angle to: he makes it back through to JJ, standing guard, and the call's connected now.

"Hello? Hello?" Bella is saying from the other end.

"Hey-" Otabek clears his throat over some dust that must have gotten in - "hi Bella, I found him, he -"

"Oh good, was he at the house? I just got into town -"

"No, he was by the train station," Otabek says. His brain is still trying to put the pieces in order. He looks at JJ. Slumped against the low ledge, backlit by the huge panels of glass the grey light shines through. "I got him though."

"Can I talk to him? I wanna ask him what was going on yesterday . . . and-"

"Um, he passed out," Otabek says. He has to hold the phone away from his ear for a second to politely refuse help from a lady walking by. Do you need any help sir, or your friend? - no, thank you, I have someone coming to get us. When he puts the phone back to his ear Bella is saying,

"Otabek! Otabek! What? He passed out why?!"

"Sorry, we're in the train station - I don't know, he just doesn't look good."

A sigh, stressed. "OK, which station is it? I'll map it ..."

They communicate for a bit while the herd of people slows, most of the new arrivals collecting at the main floor to wait for the next train. One girl is across the terminal with a couple handled boxes and a ukelele slung over her shoulder. Setting up to play, must be.

"OK, it says I should be there in ten-fifteen minutes. See you. Watch him OK?"

Otabek doesn't need that last instruction, but there's good reason for Bella to be giving it to him, from her point of view.

"Of course," he says, a bit thick, because it reminds him he has no trust to stand on.

He sits down on the ledge and wonders if it's appropriate at all to pull JJ up and at least have him resting his head in his lap until he comes to; he hesitates momentarily but then tosses social reasoning to the side and does it anyways.

It takes a bit of maneuvering to get all of JJ's limbs, especially legs, up on the ledge but once he does, Otabek settles JJ's head resting on Otabek's thighs like a pillow.

Otabek lets out a reserve of air he didn't know he's been holding in a sigh and leans his back against the cool window.

The burst of excitement faded, Otabek wonders why JJ ran. It makes him sad even if he can't quite come up with a reason.

Computerized announcement echoes fuzzily in the terminal as a train comes in; the girl across the room has a nice setup with a mic and something about a CD and everything and opens her case in front of her.

Otabek looks down at JJ and his bruised cheek that's now purply blue with no more red, his skin unusually pale and what looks like a stain of blood around the rim of his nose. Eyes closed, short dark lashes, dark hair messy and splayed about. It makes Otabek's stomach twinge and curl but he's here now and it takes a special kind of strength to look at what you've done straight on like this. He's subconsciously, reverently, (because he feels he's unearned the right to make this gesture) brushing Jean's hair off his face. A new crowd stampedes up the stairs, buffering Otabek from the sound of the girl who's started to play across the room. The people filter out soon enough and the words of the musician become clear, she wears baggy red sweats, bright white shoes, white baseball cap, her strumming hand turned at a stylistic angle as she plays:

_We're just so bound to make mistakes_

_You could call it a disposition_

_I apologize for all your tears_

_I wish I could be different_

Otabek checks the time on his (own) phone. 3 minutes have passed. Only 7 more, hopefully.

_But I'm still growing up_

_Into the one you can call your love_

_I don't know if I'll ever be enough_

_I'm throwing in my chips_

_I guess I tend to push my luck_

More people come in. Some stop to listen to the girl for a few moments; she finishes her current song, goes onto another; JJ remains unconscious and Otabek looks at him. He ends up resting a hand on the side of his face, half tangled in his hair, so he can at least feel the slight shifting of shallow but steady breaths.

Otabek has a thought to check the time again but he's just . . . just looking at JJ. How did they get here? It's a negative question. No, it's positive. Because they're back here. Different, but together. Until Otabek flies back to Kazakhstan. Or not. He doesn't know. He doesn't know, with JJ lying still and his state mostly undetermined, the one he's loved all this time and tried to cut it out: he doesn't know, but somehow not knowing is enough.

Sitting in the in-between with a missed flight and a fallen reputation and so many bridges burning, Otabek's heart strains inside him and finally he lets himself listen to the instruction:

He finally hears thought:

Like reading it off his own soul:

_I need him._

Barring nothing.

He'll put in everything he has. He'll risk it all. He's already started.

And if he can't have him after all, he'll have to face the consequences and the reality and he'll have to hurt - but the other chance is worth it, the chance that somehow he can make it right.

He has to have some faith in himself. He achieved a good number of things he wanted to, these months, whether they turned out well for him or not. He set out to DJ, set out to get good grades, set out to avoid and ignore JJ and distract himself well - and he did. So who's to say he's not capable enough complete a task, if he determines to? And now, he determines to.  _So should his love be!_

His heart keeps straining, and he lets it; he feels JJ's skin under his touch and weight in his lap and he lets himself fall under the powerful wave of some emotion he's only felt in bits and pieces, flights and fantasies before; it swells from inside and promises that even if he has to let go, he'll do everything he can to hold on.

xxxxxxxx

JJ's phone buzzes and Otabek swipes it up; Bella's texted to say she's arrived at the parking lot outside the station and is coming in. Quickly, because Otabek barely stirs himself and then one of the entrance doors opens and in blows in Bella, dark angular hair splaying out briefly as cold front meets warm front, wearing blue skinny jeans, ankle boots with a short heel, grey mottled burnout top with a dark green jacket overtop, gold zipper shining. Her lips are painted red; eyes cast quickly about to find Otabek and JJ and she rushes over and kneels down on the floor to take JJ's head in her hands.

"Oh my god JJ oh my god," she says as Otabek slides aside, then to Otabek, "so he just passed out? He hasn't woken up yet?"

Otabek shakes his head. Here's the commander; head of the mission; it's her right to take care of the situation. But, she could use some help.

"He lives up the hill, all his moving boxes are on the front step. I'll help you load them up," Otabek offers.

Bella's gently slapping JJ's cheek with no response.

"Yes, sure, thanks," she says, response slightly delayed. She stands, still holding her car keys in a hand, gestures out towards the parking lot. "Could you carry him out? Since he's not coming to."

"-Sure," Otabek says, response delayed momentarily as well. But Bella is all business. She helps Otabek get him up, going for over-the-shoulder carry again, and they're off, out of the terminal, Bella leading at a smart clip and Otabek huffing to keep up, load and all, after a few paces.

He's expecting a compact SUV at most but Bella beeps her fob and the lights of a dark blue Toyota Tundra flash. They stride up and Bella opens the backseat door and they leverage JJ in together. The stroll hasn't woken him yet. It's rather concerning.

Bella motions to the passenger door for Otabek and she heads around the front of the cab to the driver's side. Otabek buckles himself in and Bella slides in opposite, slam of the truck door and then she turns the key and they're pulling out of the lot.

The GPS on the dash already has JJ's rental place coordinates displayed.

"You don't have a vehicle," Bella says half-questioningly.

"No, someone trashed it."

"Sucks," Bella says, driving.

"Half my fault," Otabek comments.

That seals the uncomfortable silence which neither breaks for the two minutes it takes to drive back up the hill. There are so many things to discuss but some strange force holds back the topics from being breached.

"This is it," Bella says as she backs into the driveway and parks the truck. Both she and Otabek get out and go to the porch with a couple of tall stacks of boxes. Doesn't seem like anyone's come back home in the time Otabek's been gone.

There's a finesse about Bella, like she has her life in order and until you talk to her you might think she lacked grace, of the empathetic kind, but she doesn't.

Why didn't JJ fall for her, damn it?

Otabek puts all this mental energy into lifting boxes. He takes two at a time, setting himself to the task of doing most of the work. They go back and forth to the truck box and eventually there's only one left. Bella tries it.

"Please," she says with a shake of her head, retreating from the task. Otabek takes it. The heaviest one, for sure.

Everything's in a nice grid in the bed of the truck and Otabek pulls the cover closed, latches it on (it's still wet-snowing and blustery).

When they get back to the truck Bella opens the back door where JJ's still, still out.

She sighs tightly. "We were planning to stop at a lodge on the way back and do some hiking," she says. Clearly those plans are off the table. "I don't know. We should wake him up. I don't know what he wants to do, but it's probably best to take him back home."

Otabek nods.

Bella slaps JJ's (uninjured) cheek, but not too hard, and there's no response.

"Cold water to the face?" Otabek says. "Or maybe his alarm," thinking again.

"Good idea," Bella says, even as Otabek's lunging across the passenger seat for the phone he's put on the console.

"Wait," Bella says, "let's find some other place to wake up the sleeping prince than here."

"If the landlords get back, they might be able to help," Otabek contradicts.

Bella shakes her head and sighs again. "Things haven't gone too well on that front, either, at least from what JJ told me. I'd rather not."

Otabek acquiesces. Just how much of JJ's life has he missed? Too much.

It's just a five minute drive out of the subdivision to a shopping complex; Bella parks in the lot of a breakfast eatery, a jog away from the main doors though.

"Want to get food, actually?" Bella says just as they're about to disembark. "I'll wake him up."

"Sure," Otabek agrees, because it's pretty selfish to say he wants to stay. Bella hands him cash. "Not going to be spending anything at the lodge," she dismisses the gesture. "See if they have smoothies or wraps or something."

Otabek heads for the cheery, brightly-colored restaurant, with just a glance over his shoulder to see Bella get out of the truck with JJ's phone in hand.

Inside the girl at the counter who takes his order is flirty. Otabek doesn't have time for this. He manages half a smile. "Strawberry smoothie, large. And do you have any breakfast wraps?"

That's JJ's favorite, strawberry. The girl starts listing off different wraps they have and Otabek tries to follow and pick something non-offensive.

jjjjjjjjjjjj

JJ's senses boot up all of a sudden. His vision swims along with his head and he tries to push himself up but he's all dizzy, he's half sitting inside somewhere and there's light - there's Bella - is that Bella? "JJ, Jay! Come on! Talk to me!" she's saying but her voice sounds farther away than she appears. JJ struggles to drag his consciousness to the surface, he tries to talk, where  _is he what's happening -_ Bella takes him by the shoulder, she comes into focus a bit more, JJ's suddenly aware he's shaking and he can't seem to stop. Coloured blotches play over his vision - "JJ, we're just getting you some food, how do you feel? What happened, are you alright?" - JJ shakes his head because now his midsection  _really hurts_ but the dizziness won't stop.

"You're shaking. Come on, maybe you need something to drink or eat. I think I have water - Otabek's not back yet -"

Did she just say  _Otabek?! -_ JJ flashes back, to everything he must have dreamed - looking at Otabek so close in the grey morning - Otabek's hand on his arm - running away - wait, Bella's here now too -  _wait, they both -_ it's all up, no more running, JJ can barely sit - he can barely follow a thought through to any possible actions - they still shouldn't have to - he'll disappoint -

Bella pushes him sitting in the back of the vehicle (at least JJ's managed to process that much!) and puts a bottle into his shaking hands. He tries to drink, doesn't go so well, gets a few drops only. Just  _breathing_ hurts, actually.

"Can't stop sh-shaking," he mutters, finally his voice working. Oh god! his midsection  _really_ hurts.

"Yeah, when was the last time you ate? c'mon -" Bella says, trying to help him steady his grip. "Don't pass out again," she warns.

The symptoms won't go; his head's still hot and his vision still blotching. Bella turns away from him, he can tell from light pattern shift: "Otabek, what did you get," seems to be what she says.

Soon JJ's got something else in his hands, cold smooth plastic and at least it's got a straw, so he manages to start drinking (doesn't  _feel_ thirsty or hungry but to be perfectly honest he's probably past that by now) but breathing and swallowing with the first (yum! strawberry!) gulp makes his ribs/stomach knife in pain and he starts  _coughing_ and that just makes it hurt  _worse_ and- he's totally disoriented, coughing and he wipes his mouth but then he looks at his hand -

\- Bella grabs it and then turns his face -

\- his mouth tastes like blood instead of strawberry and there's red on his hand -

"OK, that's it, we're going to emergency," Bella says.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Otabek sucks in a breath of alarm to see JJ's bloody cough but Bella's already on the move, pushing him towards JJ as she backs out and yanks the driver's side door open. "Hold him steady while I drive," she orders.

Otabek catches up to the gameplan.

"Would an ambulance be faster?" he asks.

"No, we're close."

Bella swings into the front, Otabek shrugs off his jacket (lined tan leather) and wraps it around JJ's shoulders before dropping his own weight on the seat, scooching in and somehow managing to shut the door behind him with a clunk.

"You good?"

"We're good," Otabek says, sitting sideways and pulling JJ up so his back's against Otabek's chest, slightly reclined, holding him tightly-gently as JJ keeps coughing. Bella turns in her seat as she starts to back the truck out but pauses as her gaze briefly falls on JJ's face. Her responding look says it all. JJ jerks in a couple breaths and half-lolls in Otabek's support, semi-conscious.

To be holding JJ like this is some privilege Otabek wishes he didn't have the honor of right now.

"OK, does the blood look bubbly?" Bella says, eyes on the road.

"Uh, yes," Otabek confirms, wiping JJ's hand on his jacket lining.

"Then you need to check his torso, maybe we can tell where the bleeding is coming from," Bella says as she rolling-stops at a stop sign, muttering something under her breath about  _the law_ and  _emergency,_  and pulls back out into the right turn lane onto the main drag, shoulder checking and continuing, "and then you need to tell me exactly what happened so we get ER all the information."

JJ's stopped coughing, but his eyes are half-lidded shut, and his favorite smoothie flavor is going to be all warm and gross; therefore, Otabek will use his own money and gladly buy him another, because none of this can be too serious (it  _can't_ be, that's an outcome Otabek will  _not_ allow, defying natural chance). JJ's breaths are shallow and Otabek sits up more so he can reach over and around his shoulders, check for any signs of wounds. "Before he disappeared, the night before last night I was at the release party, I didn't invite him or anything," Otabek begins to recount, shifting JJ in his arms as Bella pulls out into the far left lane on the freeway, "but I got to talking at the bar with the venue contractor who had a vested interest in me not performing at the final concert, which happened yesterday, although he seemed friendly enough at the time - he was planning to put me out of the concert but somehow JJ found out about -  _oh,_ " Otabek's words stop suddenly as he pulls JJ's shirt up far enough and smooth even-toned skin shows red and purple.

"What?!" Bella says, whipping her head around briefly but too fast to see anything.

"OK, there's, there's bruising, around his ribs and his stomach -"

"Did you see this happen?! Who did it?"

"No I didn't! I had no clue! This must have been after he disappeared," Otabek says, his voice sliding with a pitch of worry. Oh, no, that carry over-the-shoulder can't have been good at all for this; he pulls JJ's shirt up as far as he can, there's the damage, ribs and lower, clustered red and purply bruising, more flushed and fresh than his cheekbone wound. Immediately Otabek has a suspect for this: Michele. Post-concert. Who else would have done this? JJ has no other enemies as far as Otabek knows and he wouldn't even have any, if it weren't for him getting mixed up in Otabek's  _problems-that-he-didn't-know-were-problems._

"OK, if he's coughing blood that means his lungs - that's not good, probably a broken rib, which should definitely be healable but still - who did it? You have to-"

"-yes, well the venue contractor, he didn't end up getting the scout's attention in the concert after all, and by then JJ was missing; he could've run into JJ somehow and . . . "

A frustrated and probably angry noise from Bella. "Just get to emergency, get JJ taken care of, then he can tell us," she says, half to herself. JJ still appears to be half-conscious, fairly limp, shallow breaths, face turning in pain as Bella has to slam on the brakes to make a red.

"Sorry! Sorry," she says, and takes the opportunity of stillness to look back. "Oh my god JJ," she says, eyes on his stomach and lower ribs, "honestly. Honestly," but it sounds worried, it's definitely worried. "He's lost weight too," she says, turning back around and they're off again. "Hospital's next exit, we're close."

"Good," Otabek says. He's watching the stain of blood around JJ's mouth. JJ's eyelids flutter briefly but still settle mostly closed and he turns with more coughing again and his face contorts in pain but there's the hospital complex coming closer, soon,  _soon soon,_ it might not be life-threatening but it feels like it is and they don't really know what's happening or what  _has_ happened or possible complications.

There's always a chance for the worst, that's the ugly truth.

"They better get him in quick, none of this 5-hour wait nonsense," Bella says as they pull into the maze of lots and lanes, but follow signs for emergency and Bella stops in one of the spots designated for those in their situation, a polite sign reminding people not to idle their vehicles pegged at the front of the spot. Do people really care about one car's pollution when someone's life might be on the line?

Bella's taken the keys out and Otabek's pushed the backseat door open. "What do you think if I carry him across like," Otabek says, conveying a bridal-style hold and Bella nods, "Yes let's get him up," and so they cooperate and then they're heading into the sliding doors of ER.

The breeze of entry hits Otabek with the sterilized smell of  _hospital_. A glance at the waiting room looks sparse; well, this early on a weekday, it should be. There's a two-party lineup to get admitted but Otabek and Bella really don't have to do anything, JJ limp in his arms except for shaking coughs, because a nurse walks by diverts his attention to them immediately.

"He's been coughing up blood," Otabek says.

"He's been passed out practically all morning," Bella says at the same time.

There's only a short delay before a medical team swoops in, JJ's on a rolling bed and Otabek and Bella are left alone to line up for paperwork.

It happens so fast and now it's just the two of them. Others waiting cast them glances.

"I hope he's okay," someone comments comfortingly to them.

Bella nods. "I think he'll be," she says.

"He will be," Otabek murmurs.

A few awkward seconds of standing together but only in the physical sense, ambient noise around them, Bella with folded arms and Otabek with his jacket over an arm before Bella says,

"Obviously we need to chat. After we get the paperwork filled out. But first, I should go repark the truck and grab the food you got. Hold our place in line, alright?"

Otabek nods. Bella exhales through her nose and strides out of the sliding double doors, keys in hand. Dark hair, green jacket, slim figure. Why can't JJ just fall for her? But he didn't.

The best and the worst mistake the man made.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Bella gets back, they're at the window. She ends up providing most of the information. Otabek's asked to fill in more recent details, but he can't really speak for anything except the past couple of days.

Bella asks where they should wait. The attendant directs them to the wing where JJ's been taken, so they walk there. It's not far from a friendly open space with a Starbucks and a grid of tables and chairs. They take an seat on the border to eat.

It's quiet between them for a bit. Otabek is usually a fast eater, but he doesn't want to be awkwardly sitting there while Bella finishes. They sort of avoid eye contact, but it's not really that awkward. Maybe in the context of this whole awkward situation it's not. Things are only awkward until you talk about what makes them awkward, though, and so it's good timing that Bella scrolls up the brown crinkly paper her wrap came in and dusts her hands off on her napkin, at the same time as Otabek swallows his last bite.

"So, Otabek Altin, do you go first or do I?" Bella says.

"Your story's probably shorter," Otabek says wryly.  _Hope JJ's OK. Hope he's patched up and out of here fast . . ._

Bella manages a half-smile, swiping her hair back behind her ear on one side. She wears thin gold hoop earrings. Again,  _again_ Otabek thinks, why couldn't JJ fall for her? But now it's a rhetorical question. Or one that is just some unanswerable fact until JJ wakes up and hopefully . . . hopefully reveals the answer. Why he bothered with Otabek and concert. (It  _can't_ be - can't be what Otabek dares to imagine but . . . )

"Well, my semester finished earlier than Jay's, I'm in health sciences closer to back home, so I was going to come pick him up and we were going to stop at a lodge, do some hiking or skiing. Weather was bad and I was going to get in late so I phoned him, but no answer. You already know he called me, so short and scrambled I knew something was up. And then next morning you called from his number."

Pretty much everything Otabek knew already.

"What do you know about what went on during the semester with him? He . . . I don't think everything happened in a couple of days. Like I said, it was completely out of the blue for him to show up . . ."

"Well, he was pretty broken up after you left. And you left pretty rudely, I heard," Bella says critically.

Eye contact is completely happening right now. It's not awkward anymore at least. It's just tough.

"I did," Otabek said. "I . . . cheated on him, with an ex, and he wanted to talk about it and work through it and I walked out," he said, eyebrows rising, shaking his head: damn, is that really all it is? Is that what's caused this? In a nutshell, yes.

"Hm," Bella says.

"Because . . . never mind," Otabek says quickly. It's still Bella's turn. "It's still your turn," he says.

"Yeah, so we texted a lot, but he seems pretty fine over text most of the time. I think he was doing OK for the most part, for the first bit. He makes friends pretty easily."

Otabek nods. His phone in his pocket buzzes but he ignores it.

"But I don't think he made any real friends, with him coming in second semester, everyone had a jump on him." Bella shakes her head. "That's just a theory. Anyways, at first . . . he said he was worried about you. I told him to not be."

"Thanks," Otabek says half-heartedly. "But I guess it didn't work."

Bella sighs. "Well, I don't know. He seemed pretty good halfway through. Getting along fine without you. At least that's what he said. But he admitted to missing you still, so I was never convinced. I know him."

Bella taps her fingers on the tabletop introspectively for a few seconds, corner of her mouth turning like she's picking what to say next. "He made it in the auditions, then he didn't . . . He told me some things about unreasonable chores and things the landlords were making him do. We kept texting, but he would ask about me a lot and talk less about himself . . . I didn't want to push him, you know, I thought maybe giving him his space would help him grow through this and sort himself out. But then he stopped responding to texts, so I called, but he didn't answer those . . . . Finally,  _finally_ he calls me in the middle of the night to say he hates where he's living and he's stopped taking his meds at some point, because that's just what JJ  _does_ when left to his own devices, and he finally tells me about you . . . he was never over you, you know that, right? You know that now?"

Otabek helplessly shakes his head. "Wish he was," he says.

Bella's lips purse for a second. "He told me you had a new boyfriend."

Otabek sucks in a breath. "Yes," he says faintly, and hates how faint it comes out. Ashamed, almost.

"Who was better than him."

Otabek slams the table with a fist suddenly. Bella flinches. Otabek flinches at himself. Some people at other tables cast them a glance. "Sorry," he says, low tone. He's angry, and he only has himself to be angry at. "JJ said that? He thought that?"

"That's what I got from the call. Violin prodigy? Popular kid? Old friends? I don't know."

"Old friends," Otabek scoffs.

"So what I know from the exponentially depleting conversations I've had with JJ is that the Lagranges - his landlords - are not the friends I thought they were, and that he never got over you." Bella puts her palms on the edge of the table and rocks her seat back casually. "But I don't know any details."

Apparently it's now Otabek's turn.

"I can tell you what I know," Otabek says. They sort of mutually get up to go walk along the open space, Otabek gathering up all their food recycling in a hand. Chair legs screech on the floor as they push the seats in.

He fills in Bella on the timeline and the plot. Exactly who and what. They stop by the waste station to toss their trash and then turn down a hallway that'll keep them right next to JJ's wing and Otabek talks, answering Bella's intermittent questions. He gets to the part where he finds JJ's phone has been in his dorm all along (facepalm!) and goes to the address Bella tells him.

"And then I'm running down the hill, because I lost his footprints but I figure he headed to the train station. At that point I thought what if he got on the train and went somewhere? I'd have no chance of finding him. But there he was, on the overpass, just standing . . . "

Otabek stops walking all of sudden and Bella halts a half-step ahead, turning back to him. He has the picture of the scene fresh in his mind's eye, able to process the events better now that they've happened.

"What?" Bella says.

"I . . . no, I was just thinking," Otabek says because the wild thought, which has more than a shred of credibility to stand on, goes like this:  _what was JJ doing standing there,_ meaning,  _he was about to do something standing there,_ and,  _is that fall enough to kill someone from that height?_ He answers his own question:  _probably,_ and tries to keep going, but Bella intercepts him. And all too clearly, she's thinking the same thought.

"Oh you don't think-" she starts, expression twisting.

"I don't know, I didn't think of it like that in the moment," Otabek says.

They both stand there frozen for a bit. Otabek's throat has tightened.

"Anyways, I ran up to him and I got him to follow me into the station," Otabek says thickly.

Bella nods.

"And then he tried to run away. And he passed out on the stairs, but I grabbed him and then called you."

That's the surface details over.

They both start walking again, back the way they came. The mood is much more slow and sober between them now, Otabek can feel.

"If he was going to . . . throw himself off," Bella says, and it's clear the words aren't easy to say, and she grimaces, "then you saved him. And . . . " she looks at him, "that's the most important thing."

Otabek breaks their gaze. "Can't be certain."

They walk along another corridor, this one the entry to JJ's wing, MSH2.

"What's the real story, Otabek," Bella says after a while. "You don't have to tell me."

"No, I need to," Otabek says. His phone buzzes in his pocket again. He still ignores it. "I . . . " He hisses out through his teeth. He thought this would be easy to admit. But it's a truth he's buried and calcified and packed deep down and when it's broken to the surface again, so fresh and in hopeless pieces, it's very hard to verbalize.

They stop at the inlet of green cushioned chairs to wait in in front of the front desk, magazines two or five years old stacked on small intermittent tables in the rows of seats.

Otabek sits down.

Bella sits down beside him.

". . . was never over him either," he manages to say, clearly, truly, listening to himself.

"Yeah," Bella says.

"Yeah," Otabek says.

The standard-issue clock on the wall ticks and the attendant at the desk types away. Hand sanitizer is prominent on the desk ledge. A pamphlet about influenze beside it.

"I knew I fucked up," Otabek rushes. He puts his head in his hands and rubs his eyes. "I'm used to getting things right. My grades are good, I'm generally a good kid and I know how to get shit done and you know . . . But I have a family that won't accept any of this and . . . and I'm still slave to my ex, JJ was just some casual fling when I was back home because . . . because I couldn't work anything out . . . JJ deserves . . . someone who can get things right. Not me. I knew I fucked up. I know I did."

God, he knew it, but he wouldn't let himself feel it, no, of course not, so now, all these months later, the guilt that got him out of bed in the early morning and marching into JJ's room to tell him he cheated on him has grown into a much larger and nastier monster. Otabek's insides turn and shred and he presses his hands to his face. "I know I did," he says and he's probably crying, stifling sobs so he just shakes. He doesn't care. If this is what it takes.

He lets the guilt rip him up. He sits in that old chair in the hospital wing beside the best friend of the man he's tried to love, and failed to, and cries because he did.

Bella, bless her fucking soul, shoves a box of tissues into his hands after some extensive emotionally painful moments pass, so he won't come up with snot dripping all over his face.

"Pretended I was the strong one, got popular DJ'ing, up and coming producer, concerts, grades, whatever, but - and Yuri wasn't ever my boyfriend, there was no love between us, we just got ourselves high and drunk together because we both have shit and I let him do what he wanted because I always knew . . . because I thought I deserved . . . I did but I shouldn't . . . God Bella I don't know why JJ loves me if he does . . ." Otabek sucks in a breath and wipes and blows his nose and then it seems to all be over, even though his vision is swimming a bit.

He didn't really know emotions could be such a bitch. Feels like he's been run over with several grand pianos. But he feels weirdly better for it. Like a burnt forest.

"Sorry," he apologizes in a haze. "For the dump."

"It's . . . you care," Bella says, but softly, not meanly. Observantly. She frowns like she's trying to put two and two together. "And I don't ultimately know why JJ saved you from the guy who wanted to kick you out of the concert. I mean, I wouldn't if I were him. I told him to drop you since you dropped him. Good riddance. Sorry," Bella says, the  _sorry_ tacked on plainly, not an apology.

"Naturally," Otabek says.

"But I can't speak for him. It's JJ and JJ doesn't lose love easily," she says.

"I got that," Otabek says.

"When he called me late in the semester he told me you were, quote, a fucking jerk, unquote," Bella notes.

Otabek's facial muscles try to decide what to express at this. A frown? A laugh? A smile? In the end, a laugh comes out, choked off by some kind of sad pinching of the eyes. "Right," he says.

"Make you feel any better?"

"Better if I hadn't been a quote-fucking-jerk-unquote in the first place," Otabek says, mostly seriously.

The clock still ticks away. When will they call them? It can't take that long to figure out what's wrong! Will they at least tell them what's wrong with JJ? No? Otabek wants to know what's going on. JJ must be doing better. But what should Otabek say first when he sees him again? To the truth straightaway? Is that too much? It might be too much for Otabek. It might be too much for JJ. He wants to make sure JJ's made sense out of everything that's happened and what should happen next, that he's in his right mind, that he knows what  _he_ wants when Otabek lays his cards on the table and that he's in a good state when he makes this decision. Whether that's Otabek or not.

"When he called he said he needs you and why don't you care," Bella says, more quietly. She folds her arms, legs stuck out in front of her. Otabek glances at her but she doesn't look up.

That hurts like a bitch too.

He needs to say sorry.

Not to Bella.

He needs to apologize so fucking bad. He meant it. He owes. But does he  _love,_ too? More than that? Of course he does. He  _needs._ He needs JJ almost too much, but not too much, not so much that he won't respect what JJ wants. And isn't that love? Otabek dares to think it might be so.

"I understand he might want me out. He ran away in the station after all. If he wants me out I'll go. I understand. But at this point if I can help - if I can stay - I know I have my own personal shit to work out, but if he . . . for some reason . . . I still . . . " Otabek's all out of strength to turn his soul into words for now.

"Well, you said you never got over him either," Bella says for him.

"Yeah."

"Yeah."


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> boy I thought only parts with JJ were sad ;-;

"Why aren't you more pissed at me?" Otabek has the nerve to ask after a minute of quiet has passed, just the tapping of the receptionist's keyboard and the noise of shuffling files as a nurse joins her at the desk. No word on JJ yet.

"Oh, don't think I'm not. You broke his heart."

Otabek's own heart cracks inside him (more; again today): payback, maybe, of the natural sort.

Bella bites her lip. "But you're here now and that counts for something," she adds, shaking her head. What Otabek's done + what he's doing = an unsolvable equation. "I'm grateful you're here, anyways. Grateful you found him faster than I could have . . . but what I think doesn't matter. What JJ thinks matters. I just hope you're sincere."

Otabek nods but he can't respond to that. Destory his own argument, likely. Bella's fair to a fault.

She stands and stretches, hands down her thighs, rolls her neck.

"But I feel like you are," she says as a comment. Before Otabek can consider responding, Bella bursts out, "Oh I have to call Nathalie and Alain!" This breaks the mood, which is rather welcome. Otabek's phone buzzes again conveniently as Bella pulls her own phone out, walking a ways away to make the call.

Otabek's parents are texting him. When his parents text him it means it's urgent. They don't usually. Alina's texted him too:  _hey parents wonder whrre u_. And he has a missed called from Alen too, oh boy, they've gone full searchlight: well he did tell them he might not make the flight. Why are they so surprised? He can only be indignant for so long before the sense of responsibility and that terrible horrible feeling of not living up to expectations falls and flattens his soul. He gets up too, faster than he thought he would and walks the opposite way, phone out, finding a small atrium with a fake tree and an elevator.

He calls his mom's phone and waits for pickup, pacing. Half a ring passes and then:

"Beka! Where have you been? They're delaying the plane for you!"

"Mom . . . I told you I might not make it, I might take the next flight-"

"Beka, where  _are_  you?"

"I'm at the hospital with JJ and his friend, the doctors are looking at him, I -" Otabek paces, raking his free hand through his hair, "I'm not going to make the plane."

"Well, I-." His mother seems to be lost for words for some moments. "The plane is leaving then. You need to call us, son, as soon as we touch down and we will talk about this and get you back over here," she says, sternly but with worry overwritten in the tone. "Don't do anything silly. I don't know what you're thinking." A static sigh.

"I can find when the next flight is . . ."

"We'll talk about this when you're back home," his mother says.

"Have a safe flight," Otabek offers.

"Talk to you later, Beka," and then she hangs up.

Otabek feels like he's being pulled in two directions, east and west, home and away, status quo and new life: and just because he knows which way he wants to split doesn't make him any less frustrated. Teeth gritted, the red phone sign flashes along with  _call ended_ and he feels like hurling his phone on the floor and kicking the wall. But that won't make anything better so he just clenches the device in his grip, stretches his neck back so he's looking at the gridded off-white ceiling and paces in a tight circle.

Several laps later he can finally grit out a full exhale and put his phone back in his pocket. He has to talk to his parents face-to-face once more. The thought of "once more" makes his stomach curl. As if it will be ultimate. As if there is no chance of reconciliation. What is he doing?

Choosing the one who truly chooses him.

He goes back to the waiting room area and does laps around the row of chairs, waiting, waiting for a medical staff to come by with news. But no, just nurses with paperwork stopping by the desk, chatting momentarily with the receptionist; some people who look like they're visiting someone in hospital, carrying flowers, walk down the hallway. Bella's voice filters through from a ways away. Sounds like French.

Eventually she returns.

"The Leroys say thank you," she tells Otabek. "For finding him and helping me out."

"Least I could do," Otabek says. He won't feel absolved until he can talk straight, looking into clear royal blue eyes again. Deep blue as the sea.

"So your family came to see you for the concert," Bella says, as a means of conversation, Otabek feels.

"Yes. It was good. They were proud of it," he says, smiling but sadly. Because how proud are they of him if they won't listen to him outside of that three minute aria?

"They went back home then?"

"They're on the plane. I hope, by now. I was supposed to go with." That's a funny little phrase Otabek has picked up, 'go with'.

"Shouldn't you be . . . what's happening then? Catch the next flight?"

Otabek sighs. "I don't know."

"Your parents aren't that open-minded, hey? I got that much from talking with Jay."

"No," Otabek shakes his head. "They have other plans for me." They would probably be happier to see him back with Mila and all her games than with someone who doesn't use him, someone being person of the same sex. Sure, Mila's an in to musical prestige and a step up on the social ladder. Otabek's known that for ever so long. But he just doesn't want that.

"My parents split when I was 12 and I had to decide who to live with: my mom or my dad. I bounced around trying to make them happy like I could keep the peace. But nothing I could do would please them both. In the end the Leroys took me in one summer. My parents . . . didn't like that, guess they felt betrayed, and I felt like I'd betrayed them, but the feeling lasts only so long until you realize you did what was right and that's independent of what anyone feels," Bella tells him. She fiddles with a hoop earring. "Of course that's my story. It might not be yours."

"You never know," Otabek mutters.

xxxxxxxxx

Minutes seem like hours when waiting like this and Otabek can't keep his mind on something as objective as the clock with this civil war raging, quietly but furiously, inside of him. Nevertheless, lazy cycles of wandering down halls and talking a bit with Bella and walking around seating rows seem to culminate to quite some time passed.

Eventually another nurse approaches - Otabek and Bella whip their attention around - but this nurse is at the desk. Files, talking with the receptionist. But then he turns to them.

"Isabella Yang?" the nurse asks.

"Yes," Bella answers, her tone betraying her need to know what's going on, and to know now.

"Dr. Ledalco will be out soon, she'll let you know what's going on."

"Can't you-"

Then the nurse turns to see someone coming out from the halls behind the desk, in scrubs as well.

"Here she is," the nurse says as the doctor approaches them and briefly introduces herself.

"Jean-Jacques is stable and he'll make a full recovery," the doctor says. She has wavy hair tied back in a tight bun.

Both Otabek and Bella exhale and to Otabek's surprise Bella gives him an outburst of a hug; he staggers back briefly under the onslaught but then Bella's off of him, smiling and relieved,

"Oh my god, I mean I thought he was gonna be fine but you just never know with that boy," she says in another happy exhale. "Can we see him?" The very question on the tip of Otabek's tongue.

"Let me catch you up first," Dr. Ledalco halts Bella. "He has two broken ribs and bruised ribs moreover. From the appearance of bruising, he sustained the injury but must not have immediately caused the pneumothorax discovered by CT scan. Likely it was some further activity."

Otabek thinks that must've been the hours when who knows where the hell JJ was, the running, the falling, the over the shoulder carry, or all of the above.

"Pneumothorax? How big is the puncture? He wasn't going blue yet or anything, I -" Bella starts.

"Fortunately it was small. I don't believe surgery is necessary at the moment, but it might not be off the table. He's on supplemental oxygen for the time being."

"Not off the table?" Otabek asks. He just wants to see JJ even if it won't be easy, exactly. It's never easy seeing someone sick like this.

"He came in with very low blood sugar and blood pressure, due to being quite dehydrated, and bloodwork also shows low levels of white blood cells. We're monitoring him closely to see if his body can heal itself in its condition. I would be concerned with the situation which may have caused this. Unfortunately, I can tell you it will extend recovery time, and we'll have to keep him here for at least several hours to keep an eye on his progress."

"But he'll be fine right?" Bella says, frowning.

"As soon as his bloodwork comes back in acceptable ranges, he can certainly be released to recover at home," the doctor reassures them.

"Oh thank god," Bella says but with a shake of her head that seems to communicate instead,  _that JJ!_

"Is he awake?" Otabek asks.

The doctor shakes her head. "He's on painkillers to make breathing easier. They cause drowsiness and he was already exhuasted. You can see him if you'd like, though."

Both Bella and Otabek enthusiastically nod their heads yes.

They're taken down the hallway. The doctor explains he also had minor cuts and bruises on his knees and a hip, but nothing needing more than a bandage.

They stop at a room where the doctor bids them goodbye and is off to another patient or paperwork. The nurse sees them inside: there are the typical off white walls, armed monitors pushed up out of the way on the ceiling, frumpy off white curtain drawn back on its track around the bed, biohazard disposal to the side and luckily a window. And JJ on the bed, looking to be asleep now, supine with an IV in and the supplemental oxygen mask on his face, identifying wristband on one hand. His eyes are closed and it relieves Otabek to see his expression without tension, looking loose and relaxed.

The accompanying nurse pulls up two chairs from the side of the room for the visitors to sit on. Bella murmurs a  _thank-you_ and scoots in close, placing a hand on JJ's shoulder. He's been put in a light purply blue hospital gown, at least from what Otabek can see of his torso above the covers. Chest rising and falling evenly. Yes, it's relieving, but at the same time disturbing because he's so still, black hair messed on the white pillow. JJ is almost never still. And the oxygen mask on his face, well, it's not serious, Otabek knows, but it doesn't stop it looking more serious, and the IV taped into his hand, probably to get some nutrients in him since he probably hasn't eaten since, well, who knows when.

Just now Otabek realizes he's still standing back a few feet away from the hospital bed. Bella looks back over her shoulder at Otabek and takes her phone out.

"I'm going to video call Nathalie and Alain if I can get a good connection in here," she says to him.

Otabek nods. Does he get closer? He doesn't quite know if it's appropriate, suddenly, he's been on the edge between  _he doesn't deserve to be here!_ and  _he wants JJ so much he'll defy any social convention_ for the length of this whole ordeal. But Bella doesn't give any indication either way, and so he steps nearer and nearer and then he's opposite Bella on JJ's other side and he leans down and lets the palm of his hand rest on JJ's forehead,  _warm,_ brush down to his cheek, touching the edge of the mask with the hissing sounds of air going to it and JJ's cheek, bruise fading. With this contact, the wave of raw emotion he let himself feel in the train station just hours before resurges, stifling him from the inside out with just how much he  _wants_ this, how much he needs this man. Inexplicable, but true. His heart strains to this way, tears the split, biased strong to this side. But he knows he doesn't come out of any decisions unscathed: this means he loses his family, he loses one love for another, and even if it's meant to be, it might be hard to  _make_ it be.

It's not fucking fair!

He feels water swell at the bottom ledge of his eyelids until surface tension can't hold it. He stays with his skin on JJ's until tears spill and then he has to turn away, just as he hears the Facebook call tone ring tonelessly from Bella's phone.

He leaves quickly to give the family their space, but maybe Bella tracks him as he brushes out and sees the gleam of water down his face.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Facts:

1) Next flight leaves, and Otabek with it, presumably, in 6 hours.

2) He has a ticket. His parents have Wi-fi on the plane. They sent him the boarding pass.

3) Otabek has to talk with his parents face-to-face.

4) He knows what about.

5) But he doesn't know what to say. JJ's not awake and so events won't happen in Otabek's preferred order. He won't have any confirmation except what  _he_  feels until he can talk to JJ. (Why was he at Otabek's release party? Why did he run when Otabek finally found him? If one event occurred without the other, everything would be clear; unfortunately, in the real case of both, the ultimate answers are elusive.)

In Otabek's mind, his thoughts write out,  _JJ still wants him. JJ would take him back._ And then he erases it, then he overwrites it,  _JJ defended him on a flight of fancy, and once it turned out badly he decided_ no  _for sure._ And then back again:  _But that's not like JJ, to go to those lengths must mean there's still some love left . . ._

In the end he tells Bella, when she comes back to the atrium, that he has to go back to talk to his parents again. That he'll call, if that's OK. That he'll talk to JJ, when JJ's well enough to make a sure decision.

"Maybe I should call you first," Otabek says.

"No, call JJ," Bella says surely. "Do you need a ride or something to get to the airport on time?"

"No, I can get my stuff together and make it there. I'll call an Uber or something."

He doesn't want to leave.

"I don't want to leave," he says. Because someone has got to know the weight, the way his heart struggles. His face shows it, he can feel.

"I'll text you when he's awake, OK?" Bella says, sympathy, or probably empathy, on her fine features.

"OK," Otabek says. "Thanks," he says as a parting word, "I . . . I know I haven't been there at all so thanks for . . . I know you're pissed at me but . . . " He doesn't know how to correctly express what he's thinking. Bella seems to get it.

"You're welcome. And thank you. I'm less pissed at you now, if that helps. We'll see if we can make more progress when JJ wakes up," Bella says. It's not a cold, uptight thing, but it's not gushing with thankfulness either. It's somewhere in the middle, warm, and enough to give Otabek some comfort. "Oh, and Otabek," she continues, before he turns, "It's not your fault. Any of this. Any of us would tend to blame ourselves. But this was JJ's stupid, stupid choice - " with a  _pff,_ Isabella shakes her head and blows a strand of hair sticking off her red lips, on the edges of which curls a tight not-quite-a-smile, " - to get involved with your situation."

"And it's still going to be his choice," Otabek nods. Sure, maybe this recent incident isn't Otabek's direct fault. But when he broke them up, that was his action, and how he left, that was his choice, and so he has that and many things that follow to apologize for.

A second's pause.

"Have a safe flight," Bella says.

"I will," Otabek says.

And with that they part.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The cars become dots, and then the houses, and then the city blocks and then the city, and then there are just clouds outside the airplane window.

Otabek tries to fall asleep.

He doubts he'll be successful, but apparently he was more exhausted than he thought beause he ends up dozing off.

It's better than stressing about what's to come anyways.

 _I will come back,_ he swears.  _If you want me._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Otabek lands back home it's about 4 a.m. Now he feels tired. He gets his luggage and finds his family and whispers a  _sorry_ close while he hugs his parents. He reads the worry and sternness and concern on their faces and the ride back is mostly quiet.

It seems like so long since he's been in his parent's top end home with so much room and finishing and extras. He asks to sleep first. Before anything. Of course.

He hauls his luggage upstairs and closes the blinds to the tall windows in his bedroom (so neat and untouched) and falls on the bed, rolls in the covers and lets himself  _really_ sleep.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

Everything's fuzzy and blurry and  _there's something on his face_ and something on his hand, he pushes himself up a little and he's about to try and take whatever it is off; he feels kind of funny inside but it's not bad, it doesn't hurt - but there's Bella and she says something like  _finally awake huh lil' Leaf_ and she pushes him back to lie down,  _hold still you're just on some oxygen,_ so he lies back down.

He tries to say something but he can't. Not with this dumb mask thing! He waits for everything to come into focus. His head feels light, but where's all the pain? It's not there, he can breathe and it feels all right - if a little funny - wait, wait a second he's in the  _hospital_ he's in the hospital why - what happened - was Beka here?! Didn't Beka come get him when - didn't - he tries to push himself up again, "Shh, calm down JJ, it's OK, you're not hurt badly, you just need to rest, I'm here," Bella says and, ok, ok,  _good advice,_ JJ tries to calm down, he should. Eventually his breathing evens out. He blinks a few times and looks around the room. Where's Otabek? How's he supposed to talk with this stupid thing on his face?! Not hurt  _badly?_ He gestures at the mask and at Bella.

"You need to keep it on. You have a couple broken ribs and a punctured lung. It's not bad though, they think it'll just heal by itself. If you look good we might be able to go home in a couple hours, ok? What else do you want to know - oh, I called your parents, I can call them again now that you're awake."

But he can't talk! And where's Beka? Was he actually here?

Bella takes out her phone and JJ grabs at it. Bella lets him have it and he types out a message for her to read. (The IV in his hand is super annoying.) Turns the phone screen back around:  _where Beka_

Bella sighs. "He was here, but he missed the flight. He left a while ago on the next one."

Oh. Oh!  _Oh,_ and JJ's mood cracks and his stomach scrunches angrily or sadly inside of him, maybe desperately - but he didn't want Otabek to see him like this anyways - but if he already did -

"He didn't want to leave, JJ, he said, if that helps. He'll call. He wants to talk to you," Bella tells him.

Oh. That's . . . good? That's good. Yeah, that's good. There's a shot, then. There's a chance - wait, where  _are_ they? JJ turns the phone back to himself before Bella can take it and types out the question.

Bella debriefs him in this really inefficient mode of communication and in the middle while she's answering something unrelated he remembers  _he didn't make it to his last exam and she doesn't know and nobody knows that he failed yet except maybe registrar's office who is already striking him off potential scholarship next year -_ so he gets all riled up again and Bella tells him to calm down and tries to quiet him and eventually she does but he's not at ease anymore.

"Really, the only good thing about you going off your meds," and she gives him  _the look,_ "is that they could easily give you painkillers without worrying about contraindications."

Maybe that's why he feels all  _funny-but-not-bad._ Yeah, probably. When will Beka call? Can he call him? As soon as he can talk again! And he'll have to tell Bella and Maman and Papa about his last exam and - oh, no, they won't have any painkillers to help him sail through that - he doesn't know what to do but for now everything's being done for him, guess he'll just wait it out till they can take the dumb mask off.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Otabek wakes up it's mid-afternoon. His parents are both at work. Alina's in school and if it's anything like last term she'll be back around the same time as parents or even later (after-school football or music or her tutoring job, which she might skip for something else, who knows; she's always good at skipping enough but not too much).

He wanders down to the kitchen. He looks in the the cupboards and pantry stocked with food. In the end he goes for leftovers in the fridge. Looks like takehome from a restaurant; the name doesn't look familiar. Must be a new one.

He has a text from Bella:  _JJ is awake and resting. I told him you would call him at some point. He still doesn't have the mask off yet. They should come do bloodwork soon. Waiting for a nurse._

Otabek can only withstand the quiet so long in the high-ceilinged main floor; it seems to pull the tension tighter of what's coming.

So he goes to his backup gear upstairs and second laptop. He trawls through all his old sound files. In the middle of lazy archive browsing he can no longer put off the emails and paperwork and calls and social media posts to make related to GLDN and the release fiasco on his plate.

That gives him something to attack for the next couple of hours.

Sooner than he knows, someone comes back home: his father.

He goes downstairs and greets him and learns that his mother is off working and will be back in a few days. And that means a few days of hovering in-between, of waiting, but maybe it won't be so bad because it gives JJ time to get back on his feet. Still, the elephant in the room is huge and it seems like they silently, mutually agree to not address it until everyone is present.

Alina comes back and they eat and Alina's got one of the new Switch games so they go to play that for a while.

The whole evening passes with not a mention of anything important, any of the reason why Otabek's back here. Excepting passing mention of some comment back and forth between Otabek's father and the Plisetsky patriarch. A promotion on the table. That Otabek's father technically should get, because their families are friends. But who knows what Yuri's said to his parents?

Otabek goes to bed but knows jetlag won't let him sleep. Instead he stares at his phone. He puts his headphones on and listens to old tracks. His old style.  _Melodically inclined._ He snorts, half at the nosy reporter who kept bugging him about it, half at himself. Turns out it's easier to be a crowd pleaser than stick to your creative guns.

He can feel his muscles tight with tension, unresolved, lying there. A drink would help. A joint would help. Losing himself like he's been used to - he knows places, clubs he could - but he knows where that goes now. Still doesn't remove the instinct for it.

He should go to therapy. Counselling or something. After all, he still doesn't truly understand why Mila had but to wrap her arms around him and he was hers again, why he craved what he let Yuri do to him even though he hated it all the same, and there's always a chance for the worst, right? Falling back again. And that's the last thing he wants to do.  _You need help, man:_ and now, Otabek can say . . .  _yes, I guess I do._

He half-smiles at his phone screen, even though nothing's really happy about it. Something's changed, though. For the better. That's what merits the expression.

The Jardins-based track he made for Jean is next on the playlist.

Otabek closes his eyes to listen and tries to remember what he was, because maybe he can salvage what was good and move forward now.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Bella updates him in the morning:

_Bloodwork didn't look good, so they kept him overnight. Should be able to get on the road this morning. Waiting again. He's doing OK. Haven't really talked since he's still on oxygen._

Otabek gets up and feels silly when he's eating toast with Alina and he asks her who's gonna get her to school now but she says she has her license. Oh, right. He forgot. He apologizes. They didn't talk a whole lot during the semester. He heard through the parents at some point, he vaguely remembers.

Their father already gone early to work, errand to run before he clocks in, Alina says, standing at the bar counter around a mouthful of toast (she has a septum piercing now too):

"So like, what did you actually get up to that's got Mom and Dad so angry?"

"Angry?" Otabek chews his lip, putting his dishes in the dishwasher.

"Wound up. You know. I thought they were gonna go hear you sing and everything was going to be chill."

"I just got into the club and party scene and . . . " Otabek shakes his head. "I don't know, really distracted? On purpose. I learned music still. Learned more things . . . Yuri does a lot of hard drugs. At least overseas."

Alina makes a guffaw. "And you too?"

"Yeah, I did," Otabek sighs. "Don't though," he says.

Alina guffaws again.

"I stopped," Otabek says even though his system tells him he can go back on that decision and it'll be better.

"Yeah OK," Alina says. "I mean you're a good DJ."

"Damn right," Otabek says. "But my release party burned up, so."

He tells Alina a bit more of the story that he hasn't yet.

Alina goes upstairs to presumably get all her school stuff. Otabek scrolls through social media. He doesn't feel like going to see any of his friends here. Maybe if they contact him first he'll make the effort.

When Alina comes back down, opening the closet that contains probably close to 30 pairs of her shoes only, Otabek asks,

"Hey, so do you think Mom and Dad would really . . . I don't know, kick me out if I said I was still with JJ?"

"Maybe," Alina perks up with her shoes pulled on, black hair shiny and full, pretty face all serious and unusual. "See ya," she says, keys to the car the parents bought for her jangling, and she's off.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

At least the mask's off, but his voice is pretty raspy and it doesn't feel good to talk. Now he's sitting shotgun and they're finally on the highway. JJ knows he's on a lot of painkillers. They gave him a lowered dose for the road and then ten minutes later it started to hurt to breathe again so back up the dosage went. Usually his thoughts are hard enough to corral but with weird substances trying to block his body's natural alarm messages it's a lot of work to think of something to say and say it. Especially if it's gonna be  _hey, I failed out of engineering by the way,_ that might cause a car accident on the highway as Bella's driving furthermore so he better not! But at least Bella got away without having to deal with Helen, because who knows what Helen would've said or done! Bella told him that Otabek found him, and then Bella came to get him and they thought he was fine but apparently he was coughing up  _blood!_ JJ vaguely remembers something like that. They tried to give him a drink? A smoothie! It was his favorite! Strawberry!

No matter, he has another one now, but it's not strawberry, Bella said they didn't have that, just this weird blueberry one that JJ could take or leave but Bella's lecturing him,  _you need to eat OK, and keep your blood sugar up, and I am going to hear all about how you got like this when you can talk and when you're not half-high on painkillers._ Or something like that.

And when will Otabek call?! He wanted to call him right when they took the mask off. He could barely croak out a word so, yeah, admittedly that was kinda stupid. But now when they're driving!

He asks Bella this. So far it's been pretty quiet, just the radio on softly, intermittently pulling out into the left lane to pass, weather cool but not too terrible outside.

"Well," Bella says, "He's probably sleeping right now."

Oh yeah, the time difference! Well, call him soon? "Soon?" JJ says because that's easy to say.

"I mean, you can call him whenever you want, Jay, but make sure you know what you want to tell him," she says.

JJ thinks about this for a bit. He doesn't get very far, but better to be able to breathe than think.

"Look, just breathe for now. We can talk more when the pain's more manageable."

"'Kay," JJ says.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The day goes by in much the same fashion. Tense. Quiet. Otabek naps. Takes care of insurance and publicity, wrapping up. GLDN has escaped well from this one, no blame. No word on Michele. Michele has a lawyer. There's not too much point in pressing charges. This frustrates Otabek a touch, but he's moved past that whole bickering now. After all, Otabek got the scout's contact and Michele didn't, despite Michele's best efforts.

Otabek's mother texts him briefly, where she is and that she'll be home when expected.

Sitting at the kitchen table and organizing his files on his laptop, Otabek lets the playlist of live sets he's recorded throughout various gigs go in the background over the in-home speakers, cringing and skipping when necessary. At one point he becomes side-tracked in a bit of particularly difficult chorale writing exercises he did but can't seem to remember doing, wondering if whoever was marking bothered to actually examine what he did, when he bolts straight up in his seat because there's Jean's voice on MO's Final Song.

He recorded this? This is the best thing he's ever done. He stands up even though there's no point of standing up to listen. In the middle of the kitchen in the empty house, 10:44 a.m., he leans his head back and remembers that night, if he can. That was a night that really,  _officially_ started it all, right? But whatever's left of the Very-Accurate-Relationship-Meter has surely been tossed out with Otabek's VRBOPS. Build it from scratch again. Build it better?

And of course, next is the totally-not-ready and really-unfinished  _Rich Boy._

Strangely, it doesn't sound half as terrible as Otabek remembers thinking, listening back to it.

Maybe it's just Jean's voice.

 _All I want is sweet sweet love:_ Otabek would give anything to hear JJ say that to him, again, now.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

When Maman opens the door and JJ wraps her in a hug ( _not too hard!_ Bella warns from behind him) JJ feels  _so_ happy for a moment. Cause nothing can go wrong now! But he can't completely forget the news he's got to break. Then Papa, he hugs him and Papa tells him to just stay inside, he and Bella will unload JJ's boxes, he just needs to rest now.

The living room with nothing matched is  _home._ JJ can't believe he's finally here, he's finally out of the Lagrange's and he's made it back. It's only after he hugs Maman again and sits down on an old patterned couch that he realizes he's crying. Stupid! Dumb crying! Oh well, he's back!  _My sweet, don't cry,_ Maman tells him. He manages to wipe the tears away and talk a little once all the boxes are back inside and his parents give Bella grateful hugs too.

"Otabek was there to help too," she makes sure to credit. It reminds JJ there's a space still in his heart that isn't full even if he is happy to be back.

Then they all sit down and Maman has already put tea on (it's Saturday) and they talk a bit. JJ says he feels better. He's able to talk at least, and it feels like his head is clearing a bit, even if there is an ache in his midsection (and knees and his left hip that's kinda bruised and scraped!).

"So, Bella told us you - what, went to a party to try to save Otabek from someone and got in a fight?" Maman asks him. They want to hear the story straight from JJ, right! He nods.

"He was having a release party," JJ says, "And I overheard someone wanted to spike his drink. So I was going to go and stop them. So I did, but then the bar caught on fire and someone else drank it and they um, the police were coming so they grabbed me - there were like 5 of them -" And the whole story sort of spills out, with gaps here and there and awkward bits of, " _But I don't know if that's what really happened that's what I think might have happened_ ," but it all comes out.

"I can't believe Helen was like that to you!" Maman exclaims. "But I do believe you, JJ."

"Why did you go to Otabek's party in the first place? Seems like none of your business," Papa says, but not harshly.

"Well he was going to get kicked out and he deserved a spot, I know cause I taught him to sing!" JJ argues.

"And?" Bella interjects.

JJ looks at her a little guiltily and fidgets with his hands. "Well I guess . . . I knew he had a new boyfriend but . . . "

Maman and Papa sigh.

"I know it's dumb!" JJ protests, but not really.

"You're too thin," Maman continues. "Look at you! You haven't been eating enough. And we still have to take him in for bloodwork?" Maman turns to Bella, who nods and gives the time interval.

"Well it's just - Thalia and Kira's food was always in there and I got in trouble for almost taking them sometimes so," JJ explains. It sounds really dumb once he says it but it's  _true!_ And it's gonna sound even worse when he says - says that he missed his last exam - because in the story he just said he went to his last exam and then went back but that's not  _really_ what happened.

Maman and Papa fuss over him and talk the summer. He did have a job, but they've already talked to the summer camp leaders who are very flexible with what JJ's up to. JJ's face scrunches because he knows he'll have to work as full time as he can with no scholarship for next year. But - but they don't know that yet. He doesn't have the heart to tell them. So everything's fine, they have supper and relax and Maman asks him near constantly if he needs more painkillers but it's manageable. Bella goes back to her apartment later (she'll come over tomorrow to check in on him) after profuse thanks from JJ's parents, and then it's the three of them and they quietly play cards for what would've seemed like a dream of an hour if not for that knot in his gut telling him that he'll have to tell them  _you-know-what_ at some point.

And if not for Otabek and his eminent call somewhere in the uncertain future.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Time passes slowly. Otabek runs out of things to distract himself. Bella gives him a couple updates. They got back safely. JJ's still on a high dose of painkillers but coming down. Bloodwork slowly improving.

Otabek doesn't call yet. It doesn't feel right yet. But he Google maps a florist closeby to JJ's home address.

The evening before Otabek's mother will return, Otabek goes down to the TV in the basement where Alina's chilling with some new Netflix original on, and asks her,

"Hey, if Mom and Dad were going to kick you out over something like this . . . what would you do?"

Alina gives him a funny look like he might be joking but then she seems to realize he's serious.

"Like, first of all they wouldn't, because I would handle it better than you . . . "

"You mean you wouldn't actually tell them."

"Yeah, so better than you, but anyways," (she's still in high school, Otabek has to remember), "I guess they're parents but I feel like I could make it on my own, you know? Maybe. It would just be annoying having to pay for my own stuff. But I haven't met JJ. I'd have to. He has to be really good though. He'd have to be funny and good at stuff and all that."

"He is," Otabek says.

"If you're really 'in love'," Alina rolls her eyes, "I guess. Make it work. I'll come visit you in Canada."

Good enough for Otabek.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

The bouquet of flowers has red roses, orange roses, ringed with white tulips and ivy leaves.

JJ bets it's from the Berlogs, an older couple they're really close friends with. Bella comes over to check in while Maman and Papa are at work.

"Or are they from you?" JJ grins.

Bella shakes her head, unzipping her boots at the door. "Is there one of those little pegs with a business card size message?" She comes over to take a look. JJ's sitting on the couch with lego pieces and a half of a cottage landscape on the coffee table in front of him, flowers beside.

"No," JJ says.

Bella smells the flowers. "Lovely," she comments and pulls out her phone, sits down opposite him.

JJ was planning to talk to Bella and maybe tell her first. The words are getting all twisted up in his mouth though. He's just fiddling with a one-by-two flat now.

"So we have red roses for love, and white tulips for forgiv-"

"I failed out of my last exam," JJ blurts.

Bella looks up at him from her phone. "What?" she says.

Oh no, JJ's airways are starting to - starting to freeze up - he's run this conversation in his head over and over but it still - "I went to my last exam but I got there late and they wouldn't let me in and they said if I had a doctor's note -" he gasps in a breath, so sudden it hurts - " - but I didn't and now I won't get my scholarship - and I need to work now but I can't -"

He smashes his face in his hands and shakes and tries to breathe, feels peripherally the weight of Bella on the couch beside him and he waits until his body will listen to her prompting and calm the  _hell_ down - but he can't because he's failed and there's no fixing it - but he has to calm down - but  _he wishes Beka were here, he needs Beka, he needs him so much!_

But eventually, he's still there, and the pain in his ribs and stomach is fighting up through the painkillers now as he tries to stabilize his breathing; he's told Bella, and he's still alive (but what's the point?). Something's keeping him from ultimate sadness, but not that much.

"JJ, we can figure something out, we always do," Bella's telling him.

"I'm so sorry," JJ's saying.

"What, Jay? C'mon, I know it's tough, but we can always try talking to whoever runs the show."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he's still saying.

"What for? You have nothing to apologize for," Bella says, a hand on his back.

"I let - I let everyone down, I should've been strong enough on my own but I wasn't - I let myself down," JJ says.

"But you can get back up," Bella says.

"I stopped believing Jenay's song," JJ says and he sounds broken in his ears. "Beka left. Is he coming back? Is he going to call me?"

"That's up to him. He said he would."

They sit for a while.

"Can I take my meds with these painkillers," JJ mumbles.

"Wow, asking to take your meds? The child  _has_ matured," Bella pokes. JJ gives her a mean look. "I don't think so but you should ask at the doctor's."

"I'm just tired of having attacks all the time," JJ says.

"Yeah, and then a week or two into the meds, you're tired of the side effects and you go off."

"Not this time!"

Bella just gives him a smile. JJ'll show her! This time around! Maybe. Maybe he can.

"You have to help me tell my parents about my exam," JJ tells Bella, who nods. Good. "I was gonna call Beka," JJ resumes, "But I didn't know if he was gonna call first. Did he say?"

Bella shakes her head and relaxes back on the couch, sighing. "I think he wants to talk to JJ after JJ has healed up a bit. So wait a while."

JJ's not happy with this answer. He swirls through all the water type bricks looking for a particular one by one in a particular shade of blue.

"JJ, when Otabek found you on the overpass at the train station . . . " Bella starts and trails off.

"Yeah," JJ says.

Bella doesn't continue so he looks at her.

"Never mind," she says heavily.

"OK," JJ says. How to get a better answer out of Bella? He wants to know her best guess of how Otabek might react. Or what he should say given Otabek's probably reaction. He's getting too meta here! "What do  _you_ think though? What should I tell Otabek?" he prompts Bella. Cause he's been thinking of what to say! And he knows what he'll say! He'll just end up spewing out all the words he's been wanting to for the longest time and who knows if that's the right thing to do or not!

"I think what- _ever_ you think," Bella says in a half-singsong tone.

JJ stands up.

"I need him back!" he declares to the empty other side of the living room.

Bella stands up beside JJ. "Well, tell him that!" she says just as emphatically.

"I  _will!_ "

"And if he doesn't  _smarten up?!_ "

"Then - then -" JJ musters a fist pumped in the air, "- he  _better!_ "

They drop the act.

"Do you think he . . . he still wants me though?" JJ says wonderingly, hoping Bella will at least answer that, because she was the last one who had a word with him.

"I think," Bella says, with a slight and confident tilt of her head, "your flowers there are no domestic order."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It's happening now.

Tense greetings when Otabek's mother arrived back, still in her uniform. She'd had supper already, and Otabek and his father and Alina had eaten, with Alina leaving soon after for football practice.

So they all gather at the kitchen table. No triangle of inquisition as last time this situation happened, but no background music to ease the atmosphere, on the other hand.

"Beka," his mother says, and just follows with a deep sigh.

"Look, I'm sorry for the whole runaround when you came for the concert. I really appreciate that you made time to come. And it was just my own bad choices that complications happened and I had to miss our flight and miss spending time with you," Otabek says, in Kazakh. That has almost been scripted, he's thought over it so much.

"You say  _bad choices_ but you continue to make them," his mother replies in the same tongue.

"I know," Otabek says. "It  _is_ ultimately my fault. No matter what Yuri did while we were sharing the dorm." This is something he has to talk about, to test, to see what his parents have allowed themselves to be led to believe. He looks at the lines, fittingly beautiful, on his mother's face, his father's well-trimmed hair and interlaced hands, watch gleaming softly under the lights. He cherishes them. But it doesn't mean he has to live according to what they want for him.

"Yuri Plisetsky told us," his father starts, "some things about your time in the dorm. Going to parties . . . it's fine," his father waves away, "but using drugs and alcohol?"

Otabek rubs his forehead. "Yes. I did, but I won't anymore. I was just . . . it was a sort of distraction, in the end. I'm sorry. It's not what I should have done. Yuri just made it easy." In the end, Otabek has decided, it doesn't really matter who was the instigator, that Otabek fell into step with Yuri's bad habits: a minor point not worth clarifying.

"And then you kicked him out? Over an incident you blamed on him?" his mother questions.

OK,  _that_ is worth clarifying. "It  _was_ partly his fault! He was running my release party, the whole thing basically, he was managing my events like Mila used to and he let Michele at me with no tip, no warning, knowing what was going to happen!" Otabek half-yells because he's still angry about it.

His mother shakes her head like she doesn't know what to believe.

"And he wrecked my bike after," Otabek adds.

"You don't have the motorcycle any more?" his father says, looking concerned.

"No, he smashed it. I found it in the lot like he'd taken a sledgehammer to it."

"That was an expensive rental," his father says.

Otabek makes a helpless shrug. "It was Yuri who did it. Would I axe my own bike?" He sighs. "Fair enough, if I didn't let things get that far it wouldn't have happened, and I am sorry for that."

"You know, Yuri has definitely talked to his father about it, and a promotion that should be mine might not be because of how you've treated this friendship overseas," Otabek's father says.

"I'm sorry," Otabek says, "But it wasn't all my fault. It was both of us. He wanted things and I let him."

Otabek's mother wraps her braid around from one shoulder to the other. "Did this all happen because you are still thinking about the boyfriend you used to have?" she says, her face wrinkling at the word  _boyfriend._ "Because going forward, we will need to talk about this and make sure you have what you need right here."

"That's the other thing, I . . . if I'm going to stay here, I need to probably . . . see a psychologist for therapy or something," Otabek says. This is one of many things that will probably go over badly.

"Therapy?" His mother shakes her head. "What for?"

"Well, like you said I got into a whole bunch of things I shouldn't and . . . the whole reason I cheated on JJ when I came back to visit and then all the things I did with Yuri . . . I need to work through it so it doesn't happen again," Otabek explains.

His father frowns tiredly; his mother says forcefully and almost scoffingly after a few stuttered exclamations,

"You didn't  _cheat_ on the boy that you thought you were with -"

"I  _DID!_ " Otabek shouts, slamming his fist on the table and half-rising, jerking out of his seat; his parents flinch. "I cheated on him with Mila and that's  _fact!_ Even though Mila was never good for me! I don't care what anyone thinks happened at the club crawl, she was  _manipulative_ and  _self-centered_ no matter how prestigious her parents are or how many opportunities being with her would get me! But I made a mistake, and I left JJ even though he didn't blame me for anything, and I screwed myself over trying to become something else; even after that, JJ showed back up and he took a hit that I fully deserved! Don't you see?" Otabek runs his hands through his hair. "You can't because you haven't been there. But trust me! I've never found anyone like JJ who's so - so - " - now's not the time to try to do him justice in words - " - so good, and good for me, and I don't know if he'll want me back after everything I've done but I'm going to  _try!"_

He stands, with his jaw tense and his eyebrows slanted up helplessly, looking at his parents.  _Please just trust me._ He's never this heart-to-heart with his parents. This is definitely not business as usual. They never talk about such personal things as this.

"Otabek, you need to spend some time at home and think about these choices you want to make," his father says.

It's like a hammer blow, judge's gavel; and Otabek knew it was coming and he didn't want to see it happen.

"I know you just want me to have a good life," Otabek says, controlling his tone, softly now, "But what you think is good is not what I think is good."

"We can't support the life decisions you're making," his mother says. Unspoken:  _romantically involved with another man, a man who has no social prowess or money to his name._  "Beka, please, please, think about this." She looks pained.

"I have," he says. He shakes his head. "The concert. Think of that. I tried to do you proud. Without JJ I wouldn't have been there."

"It was kind of him," Otabek's father says. "But Otabek. This is your entire future on the line."

"I  _know_ ," Otabek struggles. They don't see it. They don't. But that's precisely why he's chosen. "I owe him, and I love him." The last part comes out like just an exhale with bare bones of vowels and consonants, but it means so much, the weight of the statement steals the strength of the spoken phrase. Otabek hangs his head, like a criminal pleading guilty.

"Beka, we will help you. We love you. Stay here," his mother pleads.

Otabek forces himself to look up. His mother looks so torn. Her expression is so sad and desperate, even. His father's face is clouded by stern disappointment and sadness in equal measures. It hurts Otabek to see both these things. Oh, it hurts so much. He feels tears welling in his eyes again.

"I love you too," he says, with a small shake of his head, his throat constricting so it hurts to say the words.

And then he can't say anymore. He turns and goes upstairs. He can't bear this. He's not strong enough to span two worlds like this and hold them together, and he's not strong enough to bear the pain of pushing one away, one that is trying so hard to hold on.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Otabek's in his room and he's finally got himself together enough to call JJ. It's been a few days. Updates from Bella are good. He sits on his bed. Dials the number. Rings once. Rings twice. Rings three times. It's early morning for JJ . . . Rings four times.  _I'm sorry, but . . ._ and then JJ saying "JJ" in a fake giggly deep voice . . .  _is not available right now. Please leave a message after the tone._

_Beeeeep._

"Hey JJ. I hope you're feeling better now." Otabek winces at himself. He decided to wing the call and is regretting it now. Better just get to the point. "I don't know why you saved my ass at the release party. I've . . . been a jerk. I know. But I really . . . . just wasn't ready to admit that I . . . you know what you said, that I needed help? Yeah, but I guess I do, now. Also I never had another boyfriend. Yuri was just - just a good distraction and JJ -" Otabek whips himself around because someone's come into his room: his father, who starts talking right away,

"Do you realize what you are doing?"

Otabek quickly hangs up and shoves his phone back on the bed, stands up. His father is generally a quiet man, so when he elevates his tone just slightly, like now, and speaks in this cadence with such a stormy expression, it carries the weight of a much louder speech.

"I have thought a lot about it, yes," Otabek says, keeping his chin up.

"Do you know how your mother is? She will not be consoled, Otabek, she is crying now because of what you've chosen to do, and it won't last just one night."

"I know," Otabek swallows, he feels tears prick back, "I know and I don't want her or you to feel like this."

"This is  _not_ how we raised you, Otabek."

"You raised me to become my own person -"

"We didn't raise you so you could throw away your future for another man!"

Otabek has to look down at the floor and rub his eyes.

His father rumbles a sigh.

"We can't stop you. We hope you will learn soon that this was a poor choice and you have time to make repairs."

Otabek really doesn't have anything to say. He's already left it all on the floor.

"We will pay for your living expenses where you go," his father says. "You are our son. But we can't support you any more than that. Do you understand?"

Otabek looks up and gulps. "Yes," he says. And his father gathers him into a rough embrace. They almost never hug. That's his mother's domain. Wrapped in his father's arms, Otabek lets himself be a child for a few fantastical moments. But there's no illusion; it's a goodbye.

When he pulls away, his father turns and leaves. Likely to try and comfort his wife.

Otabek stands and stares after where he used to be. There are still tears in his eyes and hiccuping up his throat.

He can't call JJ now. He's too done and dazed.

Instead he sets to re-packing his suitcase. He has to run on faith now. That's he's made the right choice. That it's meant to be.

A booked plane ticket later; if he leaves now he'll be at the airport way too early but that's OK.

It's quiet. Otabek hesitates on the bottom of the stairs at the main floor. Alina sleeps in the basement.

He goes down and knocks gently at the door. There's a light on underneath it anyways.

Alina opens the door, in her PJs with a headset around her neck, gaming computer bright in the corner of her room.

"I'm going now," Otabek says.

"Bye," Alina says and they hug briefly.

"Come visit me," Otabek says.

"Sure," she says.

He leaves the house in the night, dark and silent, his old backup equipment and extra things and memorabilia tidy in his room; nothing he needs, just files transferred to his laptop and a head full of memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be two more short chapters and then it will finally be the fuck over.


	14. Chapter 14

Otabek waits for the plane. Should he call JJ? Should he?

Something in his heart tells him he doesn't need to. Something calm about calling the shot, about choosing his world, and it hurts like fucking hell, the image of his parents' expressions in his mind's eye, the last he'll see of them for a while . . . it hurts like fucking hell but his heart beats on, and the calm in him is charged and building.

When the plane takes off it builds yet more. He listens to MO ft.  _Jean-Jacques Leroy._ He listens to Debussy and Rachmaninoff and his recent tracks and decides the latter's not his style, really. He hasn't felt this kind of calm anticipation before, it's a paradox, something like a quiet crescendo, set in a sad key with a singular sharp of possible joy. Too poetic, but might look nice in an EP blurb or in an article interview, he thinks until he remembers a fugue in D minor, that marches along fatefully, stamps along as if all is determined, but at the end rings with a Tierce de Picardie. If only he could spin his net of emotions and thoughts into masterful counterpoint like Bach.

There's always a chance for the worst, but there's always a chance for the best.

When he gets off the plane to make his connecting flight he runs through the terminal. He  _does_  have a slim window to call JJ. But he still doesn't. The static calm still builds inside him, his parents' faces in his mind's eye still hurt like fucking hell, and he marches on.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

Bella helped JJ tell his parents about the exam. But it wasn't so bad, now that JJ's already told Bella. And they'll work something out. They'll look into scholarships first to see if he can still get the one he has right now. And if not, they'll find something else. Somehow it's a lot less of a deal now than it was before, bottled up in JJ's head.

Bella comes to pick JJ up in the morning. She stops in and checks up on him for a bit. JJ's just got up and had breakfast, and they empty the dishwasher together.

It's sort of quiet. She asks him how his pain is. "It's ok," he says, shelving a stack of plum-decorated plates intermixed with ones that have sunflowers around the edges. Bella takes out a container that's flipped the wrong way up and is thus filled with gross dishwasher liquid, carrying it to the sink and upending it with a look of mild disgust.

"Do you really love Otabek?" Bella asks him.

JJ stops in the middle of the kitchen with a cup in his hand.

"I tried not to if that helps," he says lamely.

"But you do."

JJ sighs (as deeply as he can). "I don't know why but it doesn't matter, I just do, I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't call or if he doesn't -" JJ breaks off, setting his cup down on the counter and pushing his hair back, pacing to the sink and pacing back, " - the time we  _were_ together, Bella, you don't know, but it was the best time of my life, I just - he's so - I  _just love him_ ," JJ says anxiously. "Love is stupid! I'm stupid! What am I going to  _do_ if he doesn't-"

"C'mon Jay," Bella says, getting in front of him, as JJ glances to his phone on the counter, "Let's just leave this and your phone here and go to the cafe early. We can save Ryan and everyone else a seat."

"Leave my phone? But what if-"

Bella's already got him by the arm and leading him out. "Go get your coat, lil' Leaf," she pushes him.

"Don't call me that!" JJ protests. But somewhere inside him, he grudgingly admits he could use a distraction to pass the time so he listens to her and leaves his phone in the kitchen.

jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

JJ and most of his friends back home here catch up at a cafe and then go to a volunteer work-a-thon. Turns out it did a good job of distracting him. He had fun. Fun! Actually. When was the last time he had fun?

It's mid-afternoon and he's in the car. He's got to go get bloodwork and then comes a doctor's appointment, for which he'll have to wait who-knows-how-long. Bella's driving him just for company (JJ can drive himself! Psh! But he really doesn't mind) and now sitting in the waiting room with her he complains about the no-phone thing.

"What if Beka called me?" JJ complains, sprawled in the seat, but not too much or else it hurts. He still can't breathe  _too_ deeply but he's at a balance between taking enough painkillers but not too much.

"Then you can listen to the message at home," Bella says.

So it is in the doctor's waiting room as well.

"Fine, next time you can bring your phone," Bella rolls her eyes after the umpteenth time JJ bugs her.

"Nah, I can do without it," JJ says after a pause, making Bella burst out laughing and then JJ laughs too, which hurts, but it's good at the same time.

It's something around 3:00 p.m. when Bella drops him back. She has another commitment so JJ's alone in the house until his parents get back.

Alone he feels sort of sad. He wants to talk to his therapist, or someone. He doesn't like feeling so sad.

He sadly goes to check his phone.

And finds a voice message.

He frantically waits for the robotic voice to get through the whole,  _you-have-one-new-voice-message-to-play-your-messages-press-one_ and then, god bless, there's Beka's voice, oh, JJ beams to hear it, JJ's not even really listening to what he's saying -

\- but the message cuts off.

JJ frowns and replays it. It's no error of his, the message is just incomplete.

So then he calls Otabek back.

But it goes straight to voicemail.

What? That means his phone is  _off! Why would he call JJ and turn his phone off!_ Maybe his battery died. Argh!

JJ calls him every three minutes for twenty-one minutes. Then he finds some yogurt in the fridge and thinks about calling Otabek while walking around and eating the yogurt. Then he calls Otabek again. Then he sits down and thinks about how long it would take for Otabek's phone to charge. When they were rooming together Otabek wasn't always on his phone. That was usually JJ. Maybe he like, went out and left his phone at home to charge!

JJ's tired. He gets tired easily recently. Make sense. He texts Bella and tells her that Otabek called him. And tells her Otabek said he was being a shitty person which is nice to hear the admission cause it kind of sounds like he's saying sorry. But JJ doesn't really care if he says sorry or not. Maybe he should but he doesn't. He just wants him back.

Should he call Otabek again? He does. Then he makes himself go out for a walk around the block.

He comes back fifteen minutes later having met one of the down-the-street neighbors and talked for a bit and gotten acquainted with their new Pom. Now he sits on the couch and looks at his phone. Every time he calls him it makes him more anxious about calling him the next time. What if he finally picks up?!

JJ's still sort of tired. You know what, he'll wait another hour or something because then maybe Otabek's phone will finish charging and then logically he'd call; or, he's more guaranteed to pick up when JJ does. JJ lies down on the couch and thinks about his doctor's appointment (just told him a lot of common sense things, keep eating food blah blah blah don't do heavy sports blah blah blah) and his therapist appointment tomorrow and talking with the camp organizers later this week about his job . . . he dozes off, his phone loosely wrapped in his hand.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Otabek turns his phone off airplane mode, he has many missed calls from JJ.

But he doesn't need to call back.

Grabbing his luggage and finding an Uber, the static calm keeps building. It's not so calm any more. It's bright and rushing and making his heart beat faster every street corner the car turns closer to JJ's address.  _En animant jusqu'a a la fin:_ except this isn't (only) the end, it's the beginning (again?).

The streets start looking familiar, neighborhoods more cozy and older with taller trees, sheathed in new green leaves. Partly cloudy, fairly warm day. A short car ride has never been so long.

Finally they arrive. Otabek steps out. The Uber waits with his luggage inside because Otabek still doesn't really have a clue what he's really going to do here back in Canada, except the one thing he came here to do, which he is  _really, truly, physically_ doing right now. His heart beats madly. He climbs the three plain concrete steps to the screen door. The anticipation burns in him, mixing with sorrow into some cocktail of furious emotion he can't say he's experienced before, not through any drug or otherwise.

He pops the screen door open and stays it by the hinge lock and then there's just one door left. All the miles down to nothing. All the time down to nothing. Life gave him more than what he was ready to accept, and he turned it down, but now he's coming back for it, and coming back to stay.

He can hardly hear anything except his own heartbeat. He knocks on the door.

Noises from inside.

This could be JJ's parents, but unlikely, on a Monday afternoon.

The doorknob turns, but it seems in slow motion.

The door opens.

Jean looks at him.

Tall, bruise on cheek fading, dark-hair-blue-eyes, long legs dark jeans and red sweater, all of him ever so beautiful that Otabek cannot speak or move or think for a moment as that now-familiar tidal wave of  _need-want-love_ sucks the breath out of him.

He's really here, despite everything.

And this man is too good for him.

He must deliver his message:

"I'm sorry," Otabek says.

"Beka?" Jean says faintly like he doesn't believe it, but his eyes are clear and they look right at Otabek, not through him, not past him. "What?" Jean says, and his voice is the best thing Otabek's heard.

"I'm sorry, and . . . " Otabek says, he takes a breath, he struggles, the last of it: "Please take me back." His eyes flick down to the ground for a second. He remembers falling for each other so fast and hard, but then breaking it off so soon and rough. He remembers when Jean found someone else's kisses on his skin, but also when the spiked shot glass was knocked out of Otabek's hand on the night before the concert. He remembers Jean running from him in the station, but also catching him before he fell.

When he looks back up Jean is beaming, grinning from ear to ear, and he opens his arms, maybe smiling too wide to speak. But that doesn't matter. Otabek understands.

With some incoherent exclamation Otabek crosses the threshold and runs into Jean's arms like this is real; and if he can make it, if they can make it, this is the one he'll have, forever.


	15. Chapter 15

**epilogue**

They're backpedaling through the living room and falling over the coffee table, on which Otabek spies flowers out of the corner of his eyes, and then collapsing onto the couch and holding each other and who's laughing and who's crying?; well, they might be doing both. Otabek remembers to not grip him too hard but it's the best feeling as they're chest-to-chest and he can feel JJ laugh and he can breathe in his scent in the crook of his neck: it's been so, so long since they were this close.

Jean's arms wrapped around him are every kind of  _home_ he was hoping for.

After some long interim they quiet, tangled on the couch. Otabek pulls himself away slowly as they separate enough to look at each other. He can feel his own face squeeze up, his insides still sparking the fuel of sorrow-and-joy that he can't describe; he's done enough crying for five years but Jean has red eyes too by now.

"You came back, oh my god Beka," and JJ sits up so they're both sitting and facing each other and JJ leans forward to put his head on Otabek's shoulder, arms wrapped around, and Otabek leans back to let him, " _you came back -_ I got your message and I called you - I got your flowers - they're really nice - oh god Beka you're back," JJ says into his shoulder.

Otabek links his hands around JJ, resting in the small of his back, and maybe he doesn't deserve this but he gets it anyways and he's going to do his damn best to build his credit back up. "I had to come back, I had to tell you I'm sorry," he says.

"I forgive you, I mean, a long time ago," Jean says, still into his shoulder.

Otabek's heart sits a bit lighter, a bit easier in his chest: "Thank you," he says. But there's more they have to talk about. So much more.

Jean pulls himself up so they're looking at each other again. Wide and deep blue eyes all serious, nose a perfect upturn, so very close.

"You're going to stay, right?" JJ says in a small voice.

"If you let me," Otabek says, equally serious.

Jean's eyebrows rise and his lips form a half-smile. "Why  _wouldn't_ I," he says, purely and emphatically.

God, JJ is  _too_ good to him. "Because I've been a jerk!"

"Well I already said I forgive you and I don't care and . . . I'm not explaining anything 'cause I can't - but I don't care!" JJ says, the words running all together, almost indignantly. "I decided I want you to stay so you had  _better_ stay."

"I want to too," Otabek says, that's the dream, but he has to dispel his last doubts; he shakes his head. "But we still have a lot of stuff to talk about. And I mean, when I found you at the train station you ran from me. I didn't . . . I didn't know if you still wanted . . . "

"Beka I thought you were just my stupid head making up visions," JJ says, making a slapping motion to the side of his head, "and then you actually grabbed me and I was like, hey it's  _real_ Otabek I'm not just seeing things but - I mean, no kidding, I wasn't doing so great and I didn't want you to deal with me like that - or see me like that I guess." JJ looks down. "So - that's why I ran. I think."

"Oh," Otabek says. He gets up from the couch. His insides are still in upheaval. Everything is so fresh. He can't stop looking at Jean, who's looking at him.

"Wait, what did your parents think?" JJ blurts, suddenly looking concerned.

"That didn't go so well," Otabek says, stuffing his hands in his pockets, knowing his face says it all. "They . . . well, I don't know. They'll pay for my living expenses but I was hoping . . . maybe I could find a job and figure out what I'm doing now, get some help and get myself back on track. . . "

"Aw  _no,_ did they totally kick you out?" JJ says.

"I kicked myself out," Otabek says. "It's OK. Let's talk about that later."

"Stay here for a bit. My parents will get home and I'm sure we know someone with a room."

Otabek nods and goes back outside to get his luggage from the waiting vehicle. As he's in front of the house, unloading suitcases, he looks back and JJ's watching him from the window. He grins. Otabek grins back. Otabek's not going  _anywhere._

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A week and a half later, Otabek feels like he's restarted the last year (i.e., moving away from home) anew, in some kind of alternate universe.

It's not like everything's magically whole. Nights Otabek can't sleep, or sleeps sad, because sorrow over what he's lost won't go. Both he and JJ need some space right now to get themselves together before they get any closer, they agreed, so Otabek's not staying at the Leroy's.

One of JJ's dad's coworkers had a room for rent and they needed a new parts person at his work, too. So the position fell right into Otabek's lap. The joke is that at the end of the summer he'll be able to put his trashed Harley back together (not, but it's a funny thought). Otabek asked JJ why he doesn't work with his dad. "Too boring," JJ said. JJ's working now at a kid's camp for most days but Otabek goes over in the evenings and they slowly get to talking about things, sometimes alone, sometimes with Alain and Nathalie and/or Bella, who all seem to have room for Otabek after everything that's happened: even if space is made slowly, it's made steadily.

The only communication from Otabek's parents is money transferred to his bank account. Maybe that speaks more than words can right now.

Not like everything is magically whole, but Otabek's got to believe he'll get there.

One evening while they were doing something in the kitchen, Otabek kneading bread for Nathalie, JJ had a panic attack and dropped a plate and started shaking and Otabek instinctively got to him first. Held him strong and told him to breathe and calmed him down. When he looked up he felt himself flush with embarrassment; he'd surely stepped out of bounds with JJ's parents and Bella there. But as he pulled JJ back to his feet they gave him a look like he was some kind of prophet or angel or at least a very good magician.

The last point proved to be close, for later Alain explained the look:  _I've never seen someone bring JJ back down to earth so fast. You sure there's no magic up your sleeve?_ with a laugh, because Alain always makes jokes and always laughs. But Otabek swelled with something like pride, something close to the acceptance that he longs for.

Otabek works mornings on Saturdays. He's scrubbing black grease off his hands, finished for the day, when JJ pops into the dusty shop.

"Hey I was thinking we could go on the trails when you're done," JJ says.

"Sure," Otabek says.

So they do. Once Otabek gets out of his coveralls and tosses them on a hook, they leave the shop and walk through the streets to the residential area and then to the easements and the grassy back alleys that'll take them to the trails. By now spring is in full swing. Grass and trees are green and there are pink wildflowers starting to bloom open, cotton fluff flying in the wind (gives Bella a hard time, Otabek knows by now).

Otabek found a psychologist. The first appointment was awkward but the second wasn't so bad. They've already talked about a lot of things. And Otabek has talked with JJ too about a lot of things. Otabek burst out one time,  _why did you even go to the release party, it was completely none of your business,_ and JJ had said,  _well I couldn't help it! I knew what Michele was going to try and you didn't deserve that and - well, I always wanted you back. I can't help it._ And then he quoted Selena Gomez and Otabek shoved him over, in JJ's room where they were sitting at the time, because Otabek knows that JJ knows that Otabek hates that track in particular.

But it was the opening Otabek wanted, to ask him,  _tell me what you thought about me. Tell me what it was like after I left. No, I need to hear it._

So JJ told him,  _you weren't there and I needed you. There was so much shit going on and I couldn't handle it. I needed you and you weren't there._ He sat there, on the edge of his bed and looked at Otabek and Otabek could see in his eyes that this was all too true.

And it hurt like a bitch, but good, because Otabek will make sure to never do that again.

Now they're walking down the trails. Otabek's also told JJ what he did without him. He hasn't shown JJ all the scars down his back and elsewhere from what he let Yuri do, but JJ knows. One of the hardest things is telling him he was probably too drunk or high, sometimes, to even remember  _who_ he (may or may not have) slept with. JJ takes everything in seriously, and his face will cloud sadly, but these things need to be said. And now they have been. And still they're here, and together.

"Are you still going to do GLDN and produce stuff?" JJ asks him as they walk.

"Yes, but I need a break," Otabek says.

"Good," JJ says. "I didn't like your new music as much," he says. " _Sor-_ ry _._ "

"Nah, it's good. I don't really either anymore. I'll find a new style."

"Hope my ribs heal up soon 'cause I realized I haven't done any singing in a long time. I miss it but I tried to do breath exercises and it still hurt too much," JJ says.

"Do vocals on my next track," Otabek suggests out of nowhere, but it's a good idea.

"That would be sweet," JJ agrees.

They stop by the ball diamonds, sunlight bright and a casual game going on in the far field.

"I still don't know what I'm going to do after the summer," JJ says. Otabek knows he hasn't been able to regain the scholarship; rules are pretty hard and fast about GPA requirements, and there's no delayed writing of the exam JJ missed.

"Me either," Otabek says, thinking of the scount's contact card, but he hasn't emailed her yet.

"You know I went to hear you sing the night of the concert," JJ says quietly.

"What? I thought you said you were just wandering around campus."

"I was thinking about it and trying to remember. And I remember hearing you sing.  _Still._ I just listened through the doors. It was really good."

Otabek half-smiles. "It had to be. All the shit you put yourself in to keep me in the concert."

"Well, I couldn't help it. You're my best student ever," JJ proclaims.

"I'm your only student ever," Otabek argues but his heart is light.

"But I have one complaint," JJ says, softer, a small smile playing around the edges of his lips.

"Oh?"

"You changed the English words."

"Did I?"

They're toe-to-toe, looking at each other.

"'So should my love be,'" Otabek says with a twitch of the corner of his mouth, but it turns solemn, because it recalls the realization of what he should swear to do, and has sworn to do, and is still completing, fulfilling the oath as long as he'll live.

"'So should my love be,'" Jean repeats after him and it's strangely sacred.

They're looking in each other's eyes, all Otabek's senses working to absorb the moment.

"Kiss me, Beka," Jean says in a breath.

And JJ must know he will now.

So he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading everyone. it's finally over. at last reached the bottom of the endless trash pit that is my brain. sorry for lack of editing, coherent syntax and diction, cohesion, etc., etc., but this story is just brainspew that I had to get out of my system so I don't concern myself with any of the above faults. 
> 
> comment and tell me what u think after everything. yes, you may punch me in the virtual. yes, i will take that hit.
> 
> a friendly reminder there's a playlist for this. https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLFtCDaG4LZelZ1zYi-uTrIroK_0pnlV7-


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